You're My Best Friend and I Love You
by CompYES
Summary: Two completely different people. Two lives never meant to coincide. A chance meeting, however, changes everything. Rachel Berry and Sam Winchester were never the type to let go of the people they care about without a fight.
1. Pt I: Help!

**You're My Best Friend and I Love You**

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Spoilers: AU Glee that kind of follows the show. SPN including pre-series, and the timeline has been bumped forward a little so Sam is the same age as the Glee cast.  
Summary: It started out just another short year at a new school. In the aftermath of case, it blossoms into long distance relationship that changes them forever.  
AN: The chapters will be varying length ficclet flashes into the development of Sam and Rachel's relationship as friends. It'll be written in seven parts.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or SPN.

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Part I: Outcasts

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Help!

_I need somebody_

-The Beatles

* * *

She'd been nine. Even at that age she was generally unaccepted by most people. Regardless, she went through everything with a smile and her head held high. She'd never achieve anything if she let other people bullying her get her down. Rachel Berry had her eyes on the prize at the end of the road. Stardom, adoration. What did the opinion of her immature peers mean to her? If they didn't know true greatness when they saw it, they were simply missing out. But she did crave some human company every now and then, of friend variety. Her dads were the best friends and parents she could ask for, but they couldn't always be there for her. Especially at school where she was a real loner. Singing by herself on the swing set only got her so far. Sometimes she got pushed off and there was no one there to defend her or help her get back up.

That is, until the first day of fourth grade. Rachel had already mentally prepared herself to be on the receiving end of verbal abuse. And she was. The girls liked to tell her clothing was ugly and her hair looked bad but it was all sticks and stones. However, she hadn't been prepared for a different kind of abuse. When she had tried to go color by herself at one of the benches, one of the boys, Terrence Parker, stole her coloring book and started throwing ripped out pages into the mud. She watched him do it, upset but resigned to the fact that it was going to happen whether she fought it or not. Terrence was big. She was littler than almost everyone else. There was nothing she could do to fight him.

And then suddenly, she couldn't see Terrence in front of her anymore, because someone taller than her was obstructing her vision. Not understanding what was going, she tried to see around the boy and noticed that Terrence was on his back and the other boy had her coloring book in his hands. He quickly turned around, pushed it into her hands and ran off. That left her alone with Terrence who was still on the floor, also trying to figure out what had just happened. When the teacher asked them what was going on, Terrence fled, saying he'd tripped and Rachel just told her that she didn't know.

Things like that kept on happening. Whenever one of the boys on the playground started pushing her around or stealing her things, the mystery boy would show up and make them leave her alone. Every time she found herself crying somewhere with a scraped knee, he'd be there with band-aids and wet paper towels to clean her up and send her on her way. But he always disappeared once she was back in the right mind to try and talk to him. After a little snooping, she found out who he was. He was new in school and his name was Sam Winchester. Apparently, from what she could pick up from eavesdropping on some of the gossiping girls, they thought he was really cute but a total geek and weirdo. All he did was read a whole lot and didn't really talk to anyone.

A loner. Just like her.

If there was one thing that drove Rachel, it was unfailing optimism. She'd been let down before. Time and time again, she'd extended her hand in friendship and gotten shut down and her heart pulled off her sleeve and stamped on. This time, though, the nine year-old knew it was different. Sam Winchester was different. So the minute Ms. Topolsky let the class out for recess, she found the bench Sam always sat at and primly took a seat at one end of the bench right on the edge, waiting for him. It didn't take very long for him to show up. She saw him walking towards her, head down, book tucked under his arm. When he finally looked up, saw her sitting there waiting for him on his bench, he froze. Rachel wanted to laugh at how stricken his expression was. Skittish, like if she made just the wrong move, he'd bolt like a scared animal.

So she waited. Didn't say anything or do anything to beckon him closer. It took Herculean effort on her part, because she wanted nothing more than to march straight up to him and give him an enormous hug and thank him over and over again for being nice to her. But she had more control than that. And she really, really,_ really_ wanted him to be her friend. That meant no scaring him off. Rachel had learned from past experience that being too forward with boys at this age often resulted in the opposite of what you wanted.

He eyed her warily for a couple of minutes, before going to sit at the opposite end of the bench. Not once did he take his eyes off of her as he did so. In fact, for the rest of recess, though it appeared like he was reading his book, Sam was constantly sparing her sideways glances through the fringe of his hair. While delighted to find that the usual suspects decided to leave her alone all throughout that recess, she was disappointed that Sam didn't try to talk to her. Her disappointment didn't last long when she came to the most obvious conclusion, to her own mind, that Sam was probably shy. That of course would only make her job to befriend him more difficult. But she admitted it was a cute trait, and was nonetheless committed. Her dads had taught her to work hard for what she wanted. She'd already sat through one recess silently. She could stand to do so for a while longer. Because if she worked hard, she'd always get what she wanted.

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Last Edited: 4-11-12


	2. Pt I: Just a Girl

Just a Girl

_Don't let me out of your sight_

NO DOUBT

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Moving around was always tough. The way they lived, the work his dad did, it didn't allow for them to stay in one place longer than a year at a time. If it wasn't for the fact that he and Dean had to go to school, they wouldn't stay anywhere even that long. Staying just a year was starting to really get to Sam. Before school, it hadn't bothered him so much. His dad left him with a baby sitter while Dean was at school. They were nice, but in the end, he didn't miss them very much. Not the way he missed the kids he befriended at school. It was torture to spend a whole year getting to know them and become friends with them, then leave the minute school was over and never see them again. By age eight, he'd learned the real reason why they had to constantly pick up and leave all the time, and resigned himself to never having a normal life like all of the normal kids.

His dad was a hunter. His brother was being trained to be a hunter. Soon, he'd be trained to be a hunter too. At age eight, that was all he had to look forward to. A lifetime of hunting on the road with his dad and his brother. There were a lot of cool, normal things he could be. Anything but a hunter. But that was the only occupation his dad seemed to have queued up for his future, with no likelihood of normal in sight. So what was the point? What was the point of creating ties with people he'd inevitably leave behind once they had to hit the road again? Dean made it seem so easy, but Sam couldn't do it anymore. He just couldn't.

Which was why Sam stopped trying. He was tired of putting himself out there for friendships with a shelf life. There was only one reason he was at school: to learn. If there was at least one thing he could be in control of, it was his education. If there was one thing that was an absolute, it was in the books he read, what he got from them. No one could take away what he got from those books.

Of course, nothing ever really went to plan as far as Sam was concerned. It was his first day and for the first half of it, he'd managed to avoid the people at school pretty well. If he buried his head deep enough in a book, most of the other kids just left him alone. But what really threw a wrench in his plan wasn't everyone ignoring him. It was him ignoring everyone else. More specifically, it was ignoring one person.

Rachel Berry.

He didn't know what exactly it was that made Rachel Berry so fascinating to him, just that she was. She walked like a queen through the playground, looking down her nose at everyone even though she was generally a half-foot shorter than anyone she encountered. Even when the other girls were rude to her, she just brushed them off like lint on her sweater. When she sang or hummed to herself, no matter how hard he tried to not listen, he would. And it was pretty. Sometimes, he forgot to read and just listened to the sound of her voice.

Sam would've been fine maintaining distance from her if it weren't for the fact that was Rachel also the victim of bullying by boys as well. There wasn't much he could do against the girls, though Rachel seemed to have that handled. But Sam could never stand to see a girl picked on by a boy. Something he'd picked up from Dean while they'd still been in elementary school together. You don't hit girls, you don't make girls cry. That was why the sight of some guy two times her size pushing her around and ripping up her stuff made Sam really mad. He wouldn't stand for it. Before he knew it, he'd abandoned his book and was running over there to help her out. He'd taken the book back and shoved the other boy in the process. The minute Sam had rescued it, he was returning the book back to the bewildered girl and getting out before a teacher caught him in the act. His dad would kill him if he was starting trouble at school the first day.

After that incident, though he knew it was against his better judgment, he kept an eye on Rachel. The girl was a magnet for trouble when she wasn't even looking for it. He didn't know why everyone seemed to have it out for her so badly. She certainly seemed a bit snobby, but snobby was the default setting for most of the girls at this school. Sam didn't see anything wrong with the way she dressed, or sang, or talked either. Not that he knew anything about that stuff, but they weren't things that struck him as good reasons to pick on a girl. Whenever it seemed like she was in trouble, he'd go in, scare away the bullies and then take off.

The day Rachel Berry first sat at the bench he sat at every recess, Sam was tempted to just relocate and pretend it never happened. But a part of him masquerading as logic told him that he'd have an easier time looking out for her if she was directly within line of sight. So he bit the bullet and sat down as far away from her as he could.

It became routine every day for the two of them to sit together. First it was at recess, then it became lunch, and then she started accompanying him to the library when she noticed they both arrived to school a whole hour early each day. He found her presence as comforting as it was distressing. There was something nice about the fact that when he left this school, whether it was prematurely because his dad did something to warrant running or just because it was time to go, there'd be someone who'd miss him. And maybe, it wouldn't hurt too much having her around, as long as he didn't get too attached. Rachel Berry was just a girl. Just a simple little girl that could be easily forgotten.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of a paper plate scraping along the length of the bench towards him. Sitting on the plate was a mound of cookies, wrapped in plastic wrap. A light pink post-it note was put on top of it. Written in neat feminine handwriting was a one word question that blew all of his plans and vows to avoid attachments out of the water.

_Friends?_

Looking up from the cookies into her hopeful doe eyes, he was forced out of the world of denial he'd been sinking himself into. Who had he been trying to kid? There was no avoiding being attached now.

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Last Edited: 4-11-12


	3. Pt I: Put Your Lights On

Put Your Lights On

_Cause there's a monster_  
_Living under my bed_  
_Whispering in my ear_

Everlast

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"Sam?" Rachel whispered, terrified, to the boy beside her.

Sam said nothing. He still had her wrist held tightly in his grip, but she was too upset to tell him it hurt and to please let go. His eyes were firmly locked on the only exit from the kitchen.

"Rachel," he said quietly, almost calming except for the undercurrent of fear and desperation in the way he said her name, "I don't know how to explain. Just...can you trust me?"

"Sam I'm scared."

"We're going to be okay," he promised, "I mean it. I called my dad. He's going to come and it's all going to be okay."

She sniffled, more tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and dribbling down to her chin. Rachel wasn't much of a crier. She was usually tougher than this. The only times she did cry was when she was practicing and emotional scene some role for a play she was trying out for. Against every taunt and cruelty that came her way, she was a stonewall. Seeing her so afraid and in tears made Sam angry he couldn't do more to reassure her. He was supposed to protect her. It was his responsibility, ever since the first time he'd taken it upon himself to stand in between her and her tormentors. But this, this was bigger than him. This wasn't a bully he could stand up to. Not yet anyway.

A whimper came from the girl, and Sam moved his gaze back to the entrance to the kitchen. There, just beyond the doorway, a figure flickered in and out of sight. It paced back and forth, watching the two of them with demented eyes. This was the first time Sam had ever seen something supernatural before. He knew his dad hunted the things. Ever since that day he'd found his journal and confronted Dean about what he'd known. At first, he'd thought his dad was crazy and had managed to brainwash Dean. But the injuries his dad came home with, the conviction in Dean's eyes after the first hunt he'd come home from, he'd begun to believe. Now, here he was, with solid proof of the supernatural staring right back at him as he and Rachel sat trapped in her kitchen.

Ghost.

That's what the thing was. Sam hadn't been out on any hunts yet, but he knew his way around the research. Just after he'd called his dad, all the lines and electricity went out and it showed up. It was surprising how he'd been able to keep his calm in all of the rush, especially with Rachel screaming his ear off. He'd dragged her into the kitchen with him the minute he'd sensed something off. It was the most defensible position and there was salt there. Salt was their only protection. Even if they had a gun with salt rounds, Sam wasn't a good enough shot yet. So all Sam could do was lay a thick line of salt at the entrance to the kitchen. Which left the two of them to watch as the ghost paced the length of the line like an impatient predator displeased with having to wait for its prey to come to it. The boy tried his best to distract Rachel from the sight of it, but the terrified girl could do nothing but stare.

It was a little girl, same as Rachel. But there was nothing cute or harmless looking about her. She had clammy, rotted looking skin. She looked like she'd been rolled down a hill and fell in a mud puddle. Her old fashioned dress was tattered and her hair was ratty and matted. If it weren't for the malevolent gleam in her dull orbs or the distinctly creepy gait reminiscent of movie zombies, they would've felt sorry for how pathetic she looked.

Suddenly, there was a bang, and the girl disappeared.

"Sammy!"

The loud call drew both of them out of their shock.

"Dean!" Sam yelled back, "We're over here!"

A teenager appeared in front of them. Tall, leather jacket, sawed off in hand. Dean. He paused just outside of the salt line and surveyed the scene. His brother with a shivering girl tucked into his side, her eyes wide in fear.

"You two alright?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sam replied, as he looked Rachel over as best he could. Shaken but nothing else physically wrong with her.

"Good, Sammy, you just hold onto her for now. Dad's handling the salt and burn. I'll just -" Dean had taken some steps closer into the kitchen to get past the salt line, but was thrown into the wall to the left just out of line of sight.

A crashing noise let him know that Dean had hit something hard.

Rachel shrieked.

"Dean!" Sam cried.

The girl appeared again just at the edge of the salt. She stared in Dean's direction for a second before ignoring him again. Slowly, she lifted her gangly, limp arm, one finger out and pointing lazily at Rachel. Sam tugged the girl closer to him, not liking how the ghost was singling her out. The air in the house went really cold, and objects began to blow around. Just papers at first, then larger objects like books and lamps. Soon, even the furniture began to move. Rachel had finally screamed herself silent and watched with Sam as a chair managed to screech across the floor into kitchen, breaking the salt line. A twisted smile broke out on the ghost girl's face as she disappeared momentarily and rematerialized in front of them. In a flash, both of her grubby hands had Rachel's left ankle grasped and began dragging her away.

_Sam!_ he could see her mouth in a soundless scream.

He tried to reach for her but the ghost was dragging her away from him too quickly. Rachel thrashed and fought. Tried to grab something and hold on. Her leg got caught on the chair that had broken the salt line, but it did nothing to slow the momentum.

And then it stopped.

All movement ceased. No flying books or lamps. Anything that had been airborne fell to the floor, whatever force lifting them gone. Rachel was no longer sliding across the kitchen tiles, but lying flat on her back, panting, crying, and hugging herself. In front of her, the ghost stood stock-still. Her face grew long and grotesque in a death scream. She began to twist and contort on herself. Then, like a paper set a light, she burned into embers, ashes and disappeared.

It took a second of staring at the empty space the ghost had been occupying in _shockparanoiarelief_ before Sam bolted forward to check on Rachel first, Dean next. There were scratches on her arms, and on each leg, she had the beginnings of bruises where the ghost had grasped her and where the chair had struck her. Tears were still falling down her cheeks and she launched herself into his arms. He held her tightly and helped pull her to her feet, taking care not to push her due to her likely now sprained ankle. The pair hobbled over to where he was sure Dean was. His brother was slumped against the wall, thankfully looking to be regaining consciousness. A groan drifted out of him, and his fingers tightened around the grip of the gun.

"You catch the license of the truck that hit me Sammy?" Dean slurred out.

He really didn't want to, considering the situation, but Sam laughed. Leave it to Dean to crack jokes when a ghost had just attacked them.

"You okay Dean?"

"Peachy. Your friend?" Dean asked, motioning to Rachel.

"I don't know. Why was the ghost going after her?"

At his side, she jerked at the word ghost.

"Dad looked into that. Apparently, this ghost goes after people with birthdays around this time of month."

Today had been Rachel's birthday. Her dads were out of town, but they'd given her permission to have a friend over for her birthday and she'd been ecstatic to spend the day with him. Resentment welled up in him. Yet again, something supernatural came up and ruined something good, something normal like a celebrating a friend's birthday. He'd wanted to have a nice time with Rachel, make this birthday a really nice birthday for her because she wouldn't have her parents and she'd never had friends before to celebrate it with. And here she was, traumatized, injured and her house trashed all on her birthday. After this, she'd know that he and his family were weirdoes who fought ghosts and other things. She'd think he was a big freak.

"Rachel?"

Her crying began anew when he addressed her. She buried her head in his shoulder, letting the tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him. Not caring about the wetness, he just wrapped an arm around her shoulder, glad that even after all of the mess and the ghost, she still turned to him for comfort. Dean's cell phone chose at that moment to go off. He left them alone and answered it. The conversation consisted of mostly quick, short answers. It was probably dad. After a minute or two, the call was over and Dean's attention was on his again.

"That was dad. He finished the salt and burn, so the ghost won't be coming back for princess here any time soon. He's on his way here to get us so we can leave. The sooner, the better."

Sam's head jerked up and he looked at Dean. _So w__e can leave. The sooner the better. _That meant dad had run into some trouble with the law and planned to have them move out tomorrow. It was enough time to pack, give notice to their schools about their withdrawal, and leave. It was soon. Too soon. He looked down at Rachel. He'd be leaving her behind. How could he leave her behind after all of this? The ghost, school. Who would look out for her at school? He knew he was Rachel's only friend. And right now, the same could be said about her being his only current friend. He didn't want to leave her behind. Bitter tears stung at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Dean was still in the room and he didn't want to look like a baby in front of him or Rachel. She needed him to be strong right now. Even when he didn't want to be.

* * *

Half an hour later, John Winchester came riding in, the rumble of the Impala's engine signaling his arrival. Surprisingly, only Dean was waiting for him at the curb in front of the address Sam had given them when the ghost had attacked. The boy shifted nervously back and forth on his feet, waiting for his dad to tear into him for letting Sammy out of his sight.

"Where's your brother?"

"Inside, sir."

"Why isn't he out here?"

"He um," Dean said, "He's taking care of his friend."

"Was she injured in the attack?" John demanded, afraid the child had been hurt, "Do we need to take her to the hospital?"

"She was knocked around a little. Nothing Sammy can't bandage up."

"Was there anyone else home when it attacked her and Sammy?"

"No. Her parents are out of town."

John nodded. That was good. Adults were harder to convince not to say anything about the supernatural. If it was only the girl who saw the ghost, they didn't risk any exposure. Even if she planned on telling someone what had happened, they would probably chalk it up to be a kid's overactive imagination.

"Alright. Put the gun in the back and if your brother isn't out in the next five minutes, you go in and get him."

"Yes sir.

They ended up not needing to wait that long. Sam was out the door the next minute, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. There was a dejected look on his face as he walked to the car. Looking past him, they caught a glimpse of the girl sitting pressed against the window, watching Sam's back as he trudged over. It was a sad sight. Dean had seen it in the past when Sam had to say goodbyes to friends he'd never see again. He felt a wave of sympathy for the girl. Not only was she losing a friend, but now she had to cope with the fact that the monsters under the bed were real. She was just a kid, on her own, without a dad or a brother to help her through this kind of scary realization. He wanted to do something, say something to make his brother not look so sad, make that little girl not look so scared. But all he could do was get into the car and pretend he didn't see the wet tracks running Sammy's cheeks or how he glued himself to the back window of the Impala, continuing to wave goodbye long after they'd left the neighborhood.

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AN: So you've been wanting some action and some Dean, so I gave you a little of both. Dean and action seem to go hand in hand anyways. This is the second to the last of the childhood chapters. I'll be moving into preteen and teenage years (which covers some AU Glee) right after the next chapter. After that, I'll be going doing them as adults (SPN events). Also, I've officially decided to establish Rachel (and the rest of the Glee teenage cast) as two years younger than Sam. The age difference won't play a big part in this story or their relationship, it just makes writing certain parts of this story more convenient for me.`S'All for now.

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Last Edited:4-11-12


	4. Pt I: Don't You

Don't You (Forget About Me)

_Won't you come see about me?_

Simple Minds

* * *

With a deep in take of breath, Rachel stuck her fist out and gave the door several precise knocks. For several minutes, there was no response. She wondered if maybe she had the wrong place. Maybe Sam's brother had given her the wrong address (he'd given it to her with the explicit condition that she come see them only in the case of an emergency). Still, she decided to give it a little more time before leaving. This was crazy, and in no way normal for her, but she just had a feeling. Had a feeling that she needed to do this, follow through or else she'd regret it for the rest of her life. Just as she was about to turn around and walk away, there was a rustle at the curtains. It was so slight, at the bottom corner, that it could've just been a trick her eyes were playing on her, but when she heard the locks being undone on the other side of the door, she braced herself.

"What the hel- I mean, heck are you doing here?"

She stared up at the tall imposing figure into green eyes, seeing concern conflicting with annoyance.

"Hi, um, Dean right?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Are you okay? Were there anymore incidents at your house?"

Incidents? Code for ghosts assaulting you in your own home, she supposed.

"No incidents. I'm perfectly fine."

"Well, then what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Of course you're here to see Sam. Why?"

"I just need to see Sam."

"And I ask again, why?"

The two of them stared off before Rachel sighed, know this wasn't getting her anywhere.

"You know, my dads taught me about this kind of thing."

"Huh?"

"If I scream rape, everyone will come running. And then they'll see me, then you, in front of your hotel room and make assumptions. So I suggest you let me in to see Sam, no questions asked."

By this point, Dean's eyes had gone comically wide and mouth had fallen open in stunned silence. He continued to stand there, his jaw working up and down as he tried to find the right words for this. There really were none. A little kid had just threatened him and the worst part? He was genuinely terrified she'd do exactly what she said she would. Unable to figure a way out of it, Dean finally conceded defeat and unblocked the doorway. He watched as the little menace skipped past him into the room, barely suppressing a shiver. She'd crossed the threshold that had been lined with salt no problem. Not a demon or a ghost. That meant it was all her. Sammy...Sammy had never been this...this evil at this age. Maybe he really should've just never answered the door. Sighing, he decided to leave (not too far, he was supposed to be watching Sam after all) so he wouldn't have to watch what was turning out to be a chick-flick moment.

Once inside, Rachel scanned the hotel room for Sam, inwardly and outwardly cringing at how small and dingy it was. Was this really the way Sam had been living for the last couple of months? If she thought a little harder about it, she wondered if maybe it wasn't just months, but in fact years. Maybe his whole life. Her eyes swept the stained carpet and the peeling wallpaper, and she prayed it wasn't. This hotel room only had two beds, one bathroom and a lumpy couch in front of a beat up old TV that still had dials. She couldn't imagine living somewhere that wasn't her home, full of bright colors, having her own room, her own bed, and a CD player with all of her Broadway music.

Her eyes eventually stopped on Sam, who was sitting on one of the beds with a half packed bag right next to him. He was staring at her with much the same incredulous look his brother had been wearing.

"Rachel?" He shot to his feet but didn't come any closer. "What are you doing here? School started hours ago, why aren't you there?"

"I could ask you the same question," Rachel remarked snootily.

"I-" He stopped, "That's different."

"How so?"

"I'm leaving."

All of the fight went out of them the minute Sam said that.

"I know," Rachel whispered, "I mean, I guessed. That's why I'm here."

"Huh?"

"You're literally the only friend I have Sam. You think I'd just let you leave? Let you forget about me?"

"Um..." Sam shifted on his feet nervously.

"You really thought that, didn't you?"

"Oh come on Rachel. Almost every person I meet forgets about me once I leave. And anyone who finds out what my family _really_ does, _wants_ to forget they ever met us." His fist beat the mattress. "Why were you supposed to be any different?"

"I don't know Sam. I-I'm sorry that it's always been like that. I had no idea that this was what it was like for you... with the gh-ghosts..." She shuddered a little, trying to calm her fritzing emotions. "But I promise this time it really will be different Sam. I don't want to stop being friends."

"But I'm leaving Rachel. How is being friends supposed to work when my dad will be taking me half way across the country?"

For the first time since she showed up, Rachel smiled. She let her purple backpack slip off her shoulders and into her hand so she could pull a paper bag out of it. Reaching in, she pulled out two plain looking cell phones. She kept the one clutched in her left hand to herself and held the other out to Sam. He stared at it like if he reached to touch it, it would bite him.

"Rachel, what...?"

"This is how we'll stay in contact. I already programmed my phone's number into it."

"I can't accept this Rachel," he said, trying to push the hand with the phone away.

"You can and you will," she ordered, refusing to let him dissuade her.

"I'm not a charity case," Sam bit out.

"I know you're not. This isn't about charity Sam. My dads got me a cell phone for my birthday this year. It came with another. Kind of a deal, free second phone with free service as long as I pay for mine. The only person I'd want to have it is you. I was planning to give it to you anyways on my birthday so that I could call you whenever I wanted. Now that I finally am giving it to you, I'm giving it to you with the expectation that you will call me back. Understand?"

Not having anything to say, he kept his mouth shut. But after a minute, he took the phone and started looking it over. It wasn't the newest model, but that didn't matter. It was his first cell phone. His dad and Dean both had one, but his dad hadn't gotten one for him yet. He looked up again when he saw Rachel riffling through the paper bag again. She pulled a charger out and handed that to him as well.

"You'll need that too."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you trying so hard to stay my friend?"

"I told you Sam, you're the only friend I have. You actually like me. I know that doesn't sound like much, but it means the world to me." She stared down at her phone. "Please just stay my friend."

Just like the day she had pushed that plate of cookies over to him asking to be friends, Sam knew he couldn't refuse her. Not when she was there begging and pleading with him. Not when he looked her in the eye and saw she was sincerely just as desperate to have a piece of normal, just one friend in the whole world.

"Okay," he finally said.

Any sadness or uncertainty left Rachel and she let out a squeal of delight as she threw herself at Sam. If possible, she was happier than when he first said yes to being her friend. She was so happy, she wanted to sing about it. Maybe she'd save that for when she was home and had her Celine Dion songs to accompany her.

"So you have to call me every day!"

Sam gave her a look.

"Every other day?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine, just try and call. When should I call?"

"Hmm..." Sam thought. He didn't want his dad or Dean to find out he had a phone. Or that he was talking to anyone. It was something he wanted to keep to himself for as long as possible. "Three-thirty. On school day.s"

Three-thirty was a good time. No matter what school, class was always over around that time. His dad and Dean never picked him up on time. That gave him at least half an hour to himself, so he'd be able to take her calls then.

"Sounds like we have a deal Sam!"

"Only cause you're twisting my arm to get me to agree," he complained, though there was no actual begrudged feeling behind it.

"I promise, you're not going to regret staying my friend."

"Sure."

She smacked his arm. Putting her own phone in her backpack, she stared at him, sad again.

"I'm going to miss you. I've gotten used to you looking out for me."

"Me too. I've gotten pretty used to keeping you out of trouble. Are you going to be fine on your own at school?"

Rachel scoffed.

"Schoolyard bullies have nothing on ghosts. I'm sure I'll survive."

"Yeah, I know you will," he said, chuckling.

Once more, without warning, she darted forward for another hug. He wrapped his arms around her and they shared a brief squeeze before releasing one another. There was some regret that this was it for now, but no tears. They both knew after taking this chance on one another, it wasn't the end. No matter the consequences, they both wanted to see this friendship through, for whatever it was worth. With their goodbyes done, Rachel bravely left the hotel room, passing Dean on her way out. She waved, delighted by his confused, wary expression. Once she'd made it to the bus stop, she pulled out her cell phone again and turned it on. It made its delightful welcome sound as the phone came to life, its screen lighting up. Opening the contacts option, she looked at the three numbers that the contacts list consisted of. The first two were of course her fathers. The last was a number without a name. Pressing the 'enter' button, she selected the edit option and input the name Sam Winchester there.

* * *

AN1: This is the last chapter of the childhood set. There will be an interlude and then the next part, _McKinley_, will begin.

AN2: I've been thinking. As much as I wish that Rachel and Sam could work romantically, they don't work that way. So unfortunately, this story is no longer going to be that pairing. I feel better about that too. This story has always been about their friendship. Just because there's not Samchel (or whatever other names you can come up with) doesn't mean it's the end of the world. There will be pairings, just not Sam and Rachel together. But never fear! I've got some juicy alternate pairings for them lined up.

* * *

Last Edited: 4-11-12


	5. Interlude: 5 Phone Calls

Interlude: 5 Phone Calls

* * *

_"We won!"_

"Congratulations Sam! I told you it would happen."

"_I know, but, it's just, wow. We're almost there. We're totally going to kill the Tigers in the final."_

A smile tugged at her lips.

"Don't let winning the semi-finals go to your head. If there's one thing the many years of auditioning for parts in plays has taught me, you don't get ahead of yourself before you've gotten the part. Make sure you're on the ball and you give the last game of divisionals your all."

_"As if I'd give it any less Rachel."_

"True. But with your talent at everything, it would be easy to fall into the habit of depending on that handicap. Talent is a blessing Sam, but the only way we truly become good at anything is when we refine that talent with hard work and determination."

He chuckled on the other end of the line.

_"You should write for motivational posters._

"I'll take that as a compliment."

_"So how about you? Last time I heard, you had an audition for Annie."_

"I got a part in it," Rachel said, trying to keep some of her disappointment out of her voice.

_"But...?"_

"Not the part I wanted. I really want to be Annie, but they gave the part to Shelly instead," she finally admitted, knowing that she was sounding like a brat to Sam.

_"You can't be the leading lady all of the time Rachel. There will be times when you have to bow out to someone better or more appropriate for the role. I'm guessing Shelly got the part because she's an actual redhead huh?"_

"Pretty much."

_"Next time then, Rachel."_

"Well, there is going to be a show for The Wizard of Oz next season. I'd make a spectacular Dorothy."

_"That's the spirit."_

* * *

_"You know, I've been thinking lately."_

"Hmm?"

"_I might be experiencing a crisis of faith."_

Sam's brow raised.

"You're having a crisis of faith? How?

_"Well, I mean, you know I'm Jewish. But I know demons exist. You exorcise them with Catholic ritual exorcisms right? It makes me wonder if I've been part of the right religion this whole time."_

"Wait, so you're having doubts about being Jewish because of demon exorcisms?"

_"Precisely."_

He sighed.

"Rachel, I don't think you should change your religion to Catholicism just because their religion has a handy demon exorcism that works. You're always telling me how much you love being Jewish and how it makes you feel closer to Barbra Streisand. Are you really going to give up such a big part of your identity just because of this?"

She remained silent on the other end.

"Don't let the supernatural world affect who you are Rachel. It's hard enough that I have to live with it at every turn in my life. You should just be you. Besides, if you're that concerned about demons, just memorize the Catholic exorcism and be done with it."

_"You know what, you're right. I've been thinking about this too much anyway."_

"No prob Rach. Oh, and Merry Christmas."

_"I appreciate the sentiment, but don't forget, I'm Jewish. It's Happy Hanukkah."_

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Happy Hanukkah Rachel."

"_Merry Christmas Sam."_

* * *

She was distracted from her homework by the sound of her phone going off. The Sam Winchester line. Walking over to her nightstand, she picked it up and answered it.

_"Rachel, thank God, I just...I..."_

Immediately, she was alert.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

_"I got into a really bad fight with my Dad, and, I can't go back. Not right now. What do I do? Where do I go?"_

She ran back over to the computer and opened a new window.

"Where are you Sam?"

_"Outside a 7-11 in Peoria, Illinois."_

"Give me the address."

He gave it to her and she input it into the mapquest window she currently had open.

"How much money do you have on you right now?"

_"The couple hundred I was able to hustle off some guys in a bar."_

Her lips pursed in distaste. "I'm trying not going to comment on that. Listen carefully, I'm going to give you the instructions to the closest bus stop. You should have enough to take the first bus to Lima."

_"Wait, Rachel, I can't impose on you and your dads like that."_

"It's not an imposition Sam. I want you here. I haven't seen you for going on a year now. Just think of it as a fun get together for us. Better you spending however long you need with us than you running away to some cold, dingy, abandoned cabin out in the woods all by yourself. Okay?"

The tone she used brooked no room for argument.

_"All right."_

"Call the minute your bus reaches the Ohio state line. My dads and I will be there to pick you up."

_"Even though you don't have to, thanks Rachel."_

"What are friends for, silly? Now go get on that bus."

* * *

_"Hi!"_

"Hey," Sam greeted her back less enthusiastically.

_"Hey,"_ Rachel said, obviously noticing it, _"Bad day?"_

"Yeah. Dean got hurt on a hunt. Really bad. He's at the hospital with Dad now."

Sam bit his lip thinking about his brother's injuries.

_"Oh my god, is he going to be alright?"_

"I think so, but, he's never had to go to the hospital before. He or Dad could treat his wounds just fine. Dean's always been really...strong you know? Nothing ever got him down."

_"I know. Your brother is a bit like...Chuck Norris. That is the right saying, isn't it?"_

Though he was still really down about Dean being in the hospital, Rachel's attempt at bad humor dragged some chuckles out of him.

"Yeah, something like that Rachel."

_"How about you? Are you all right Sam?"_

"I'm fine."

_"No you're not," _she remarked.

"Yes I am."

_"Obviously, you're not if you're calling me at this time of night. Now tell me what's wrong Samuel Winchester or I swear I'll start singing _the song_."_

"Rachel..."

_"5...4..."_

"Come on..."

_"...2..."_

"Seriously."

_"1... I love you! You love m-"_

"I'm just scared all right! I'm really really scared. Dad's gotten hurt before, but now Dean is getting hurt too. One of these days, they might get themselves killed. What happens then Rachel? I just...I just don't want to lose them."

_"And you won't. You said it yourself. Dean's strong. Your Dad's even stronger. They might get hurt on the job, but nothing will kill them. I promise."_

"I'm sorry I'm dumping this on you Rachel."

_"Don't be sorry Sam. You needed someone to talk to. For all the strength we've been saying your family possesses, all of you are quite lacking in the ability to actually talk about your problems."_

"So you're like my on-call therapist?"

_"Of course Sam. One of these days, I think I'll even charge."_

"Greedy."

_"Practical."_

* * *

_Zzz_

With a frown, she pulled out her phone which had started vibrating since it was on silent mode. Just what was Sam doing calling her right before school was going to start? And on the first day of the year too. She needed to be aware of her surroundings today. Day one for the jocks and the cheerios was all about starting the year off with a slushie filled bang. Everyone else just hoped that they weren't the unlucky victims of the tradition. Sighing, Rachel darted into the hall, keeping a wary eye out for teachers or Coach Sylvester before ducking into the janitor's closet. It wasn't ideal, but that was where she'd get the most privacy. What if Sam was calling her to discuss details of a hunt with her? What if...what if Sam was in trouble?

If he was, well...she was ready to call her dads to have her excused from school. She'd drive till she fell asleep at the wheel to get to wherever he was.

She hit the answer button on the last ring before it went to voice mail and brought the phone to her ear

"Sam. What's going on? Is something wrong?"

_"Why don't you step into the hall and see?_" Came Sam's mysterious reply, and Rachel could hear a secret smile in his voice.

Confused, she hid her phone in her neck and hair and opened the closet door. Standing there, right in front of her, was Sam Winchester, his own phone against his ear with a big grin near splitting his face as he looked at her.

_"Surprise."_

* * *

AN: Cookies to anyone who pick out hidden references to minor SPN/Glee scenes.

* * *

Last Edited: 4-12-12


	6. Pt II: Welcome to My Life

Part II: McKinley

* * *

Welcome to My Life

_To be kicked when you're down_  
_To feel like you've been pushed around_

Simple Plan

* * *

"Sam!"

Like most hugs between her and him, it was an explosive, running start kind of hug. With the few hugs they got due to the infrequency of being together, it was pretty much making up for lost time. Sam had grown strangely used to it. Half of being used to it was that her hugs didn't floor him with their force anymore. The other half was that of the few people he knew well enough to hug, Rachel had the most sincere, loving hugs that didn't have a three second time limit. Nor were they a set up for tagging his back with a "Kick Me!" sign.

"Warn me the next time you just show up in town out of the blue!" she cried, though there wasn't a hint of true annoyance to be found in her cheery countenance, "What are you doing here? Did John find a job nearby or something?" A touch of indignation crossed her features. "Are you skipping school to see me Sam Winchester? While I am truly flattered, if it turns out you are, I will beat you upside the head with a textbook till you have learned your lesson."

He really should've kept his mouth shut but he couldn't help the opportunity presented.

"Sure you can reach that high?"

And then she was jumping up and down at him in an attempt to scratch at his face for his insult of her height. Not that he was concerned for his well being, but he was grateful when the sound of someone clearing their throat distracted her. They turned to see the newcomers, an incredibly effeminate looking boy and a tall statuesque blond with a vacant stare.

"Friend of yours hon?" the boy asked, "Or is it the new male nemesis of the week?"

Rachel scoffed while Sam blinked in confusion.

"I don't understand why you seem to think I take sport in pitting myself against others. Those brutes always start it first," Rachel said defensively.

"It's not a bad thing. You do your warrior princess thing and I don't get pushed around, so I'm not complaining."

"Can somebody explain? Because I'm not understanding this."

Rachel and the other two looked at Sam as if they just remembered he was there.

"Rachel's a superhero," the blond replied vaguely.

Blinking again, Sam was about to ask her to elaborate when he was cut off by the sound of the bell ringing. The boy looped an arm through Rachel's and began to drag her away.

"Sorry to cut our pleasant conversation short, but we do have class to attend stranger. I suggest you scoot too, or you'll be late."

Then they were gone and Sam was left alone with the girl.

"You not worried about being late?" the tall boy inquired, glancing at her.

"Late?" She asked, "Maybe. Do you know where I'm going?"

"No. But I can help you find you're class if you'd like?"

"That would be really nice." She turned her head to look at him and blinked when she found her eyes were only at neck level. She lifted them a bit, peering into his face with a bit of wonder in her gaze. "You're tall."

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

It was hard to keep a straight face as he led the girl by her hand to her next class.

* * *

Rachel entered the cafeteria and bit a groan as she saw Sam at one of the lunch tables with Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Artie and Brittany surrounding him. She'd already known this was going to happen. When Kurt got that look in his eye the minute he saw her and Sam, she knew that both of them were going to be in for it. The rest of the cafeteria also seemed to have their eye on Sam, he was new after all. He'd snuck her some texts during class, long the lines of "_chill, im not skipping_" and "_i go here now._" Her resulting squeal had interrupted her Chemistry class and caused her to be sent out of the room by the teacher. It wasn't too bad since the teacher hated her, and Rachel disliked her teacher right back, so no love lost. Besides, she had bigger things to take up her focus. Like how her best friend was now being grilled by her school friends. Wonderful.

"Rachel saved me from ghosts once. Now I always carry a salt shaker around with me," Brittany intoned, and Rachel wanted to smack her head on the table.

"Brittany, we've talked about this before," Kurt said, rubbing her wrist in a placating way, "Rachel beats up bullies, not monsters. That's Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

"Hey," Rachel said, announcing her presence to the table.

"Hey!" Sam said in a mixture of relief and excitement at seeing her.

He reached over and pulled his book bag off of the seat next to him and gestured for her to take it. With the rest of her friends', and the rest of the schools', eyes on her, she moved forward to take the seat. It felt as if the air in the room had been sucked out of it by the collective gasp from all nosy teenagers present. If Rachel were a ruder person, she'd be using both hands to flip all of them off and tell them to mind their own business.

"So," Mercedes started, breaking the silence, "We haven't been able to get much else out of him past introductions. Apparently you and Sam here are friends? How do you two know each other?"

Sharing a glance with Sam, she got the green light to give them an explanation. The edited version, though, no ghosts or ghoulies included.

"We've been friends since elementary school."

Artie gave a low whistle.

"You must know everything about Rachel then."

"I...guess..." Sam said, unsure.

"So, you two been dating on the sly all these years?" Mercedes asked, nudging Rachel playfully.

Everyone else minus Brittany sat forward in anticipation of the answer. Sam looked around at the black girl flabbergasted while Rachel sputtered in horror at the question.

"No!" They both yelled.

Four sets of eyebrows rose as one.

"M-m-methinks they d-doth protest t-t-too much," Tina said, sharing a conspiratorial look with Artie.

"Everyone, that's just preposterous. Really, now, Sam is just my friend. My best friend," Rachel amended when she looked at Sam again, giving him a quick nervous smile that he returned reassuringly.

"Uh-huh." Kurt tucked a stray lock of hair back into place. "Seriously, you two don't have pretend you're not dating with us. We'll keep it a secret from Puck."

"Puck?" Sam asked questioningly.

"Oh God," Rachel moaned burying her face in her hands.

"Hey," Sam said, taking in Rachel's distress, "Wait, who is this Puck?"

"Noah Puckerman," Brittany finally spoke up, "He owes Rachel a life debt too."

"The boy is head over heels in love with our own little delinquent here. Been that way since the first day of high school. But she's always shut him down with the same line every time." Mercedes stopped and increased the pitch of her voice. "'I am sorry Noah, but we are simply not meant for each other. My heart belongs to my darling boyfriend.'" Clearing her voice, Mercedes returned to normal. "We never believed her when she said she had a boyfriend... until now." She pointed at Sam. "Gotta say, I'm surprised that that comment about a mystery man is actually true. And I'm more than a little impressed that besides the fact that you exist, you are by far one of the prettiest boys I've ever seen. Even prettier than Puckerman, and he is one fine piece. Still, I have to warn you that your ass is grass the minute Puckerman finds out about you and Rachel."

Sam just listened to her in stunned silence. After a couple of seconds, he turned to Rachel.

"You seriously claimed you had a boyfriend to avoid going out with this Puck?"

Rachel nodded, face still in hands.

"You couldn't have just said no?"

"I tried that the first time. He just came back with shoplifted flowers to ask me out again."

"So you thought the fake boyfriend excuse would work?"

"Yes," she answered miserably.

"And did that work?"

"No," she answered again, even more miserable sounding.

"Points for trying?" he said, prodding her shoulder.

She uncovered one eye to give him the darkest glares she could manage.

"So will I have to duel this guy to the death or something?" Sam asked, deciding to just go along with it.

Judging by what Rachel's friends had said so far, and how adverse Rachel seemed to dating this guy, this charade would just be him helping his friend out. Sam could handle some punk kid giving Rachel a hard time. Besides, it wouldn't even be lying. He was neither confirming nor denying that he and Rachel were in a relationship. Just let them believe whatever fantasy their little hearts wanted for him and his friend.

"Dude," Artie said with wide eyes, "Puck doesn't do fair fights. He'll have a shiv hidden in his daily slushie or something and try to catch you off guard. In these halls, you have to be aware of your surroundings at all times."

"Just what kind of high school is this?"

Kids with weapons? He thought that was just him and Dean. His eyes slid over to Rachel for a second. Maybe her too.

"McKinley High," Rachel sighed, "You'll soon become accustomed to it."

* * *

Sam had managed to get through the school day without incident, but everything after the last bell rang was an entirely different story. He and Rachel had agreed to meet out in the parking after school. By now, Rachel was driving and had her own car. He hadn't even have to ask; she was already offering a ride in exchange for him to come over and catch up. Rachel had just been standing there near her car waiting on him across the lot, when he saw these two guys came strolling over and stopped behind her. The one closest to her lifted the cup in his hand and Sam watched, as if it happened in slow motion, as he tipped it over her head. Her hair was immediately soaked with it, her face momentarily obscured by the waterfall of blue colored substance running down it, and the rest of the slushie sloughed off onto her shoulders and down her front.

It was like he had suddenly been transported back to the days where he and Rachel were little and the other boys were picking on her again. It was horrific seeing it all being played out again even at this age. The difference this time was that after Rachel had gone through the motions of wiping the slushie-that's what it was, slushie- out of her eyes with a dignified air, she turned on her heel, and hauled off. Thankfully she was just tall enough to land the hit on the guy's jaw and he felt a swell of pride for her in his chest when he saw the boy reeling back from the blow. He hurried over immediately before a crowd could form, or the guy could recover and maybe even hit her back. Sam reached over and plucked the cup from the other one's hand. Feeling rather vindictive, he gave the boy who'd slushied Rachel the same exact treatment he'd giver her.

"I suggest the two of you leave." Sam's voice was dangerously low and threatening, his shoulders hunched menacingly so that he was at eye level with them. He crushed the cup in his hand for dramatic effect. "Or I'll make you."

A frown settled upon his features as he watched them flee, for a second feeling the urge to chase them down and give them everything they deserved. Ever since he'd started getting taller, it was easier to scare off bullies without ever having to throw a punch. Sure, he always handled himself in fights, never lost unless he let it happen, but he seriously didn't want to start anything on his first day. Especially not with Rachel standing there, likely to scold him for fighting even as she was probably developing pneumonia during her tirade. Sam sighed at the sight of her shivering, shrugging off his own jacket and sweater underneath.

"Here," he said, handing her the sweater, "Use this."

He used it to dab at her cheek once before holding it out. She took it from him gingerly and with hesitation, began to clean her face, blotting at her hair and wet clothes. Giving the lot a look around, he could see students rubbernecking, trying to get a look at what was going on. It made him really angry to see some of them laughing and pointing at Rachel as if this was funny. There was nothing funny about a girl freezing to death after having a cold drink dumped over her head. As Rachel continued to clean herself off, he threw his jacket around her shoulders too, since he was positive her argyle sweater wasn't doing anything to keep her warm anymore.

"Give me your keys," he ordered holding his hand out to her expectantly.

"Why?" she asked him, her teeth chattering.

"Because I'm driving you home."

Reluctantly, she gave them up. Neither of them aware that there was someone lurking nearby, watching the exchange with rapt attention.

* * *

The car ride was spent in silence. She could tell by his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel he was angry. Very angry. Rachel could remember when he got like this. It never boded well for whoever or whatever was on the receiving end of his wrath. When they got to her house, her parents were out; they wouldn't be getting home for a couple of hours. The first thing Sam had done once they were inside was ushered her up to her room with the strict instructions that she take a hot shower to warm up and clean herself off. Once she was done, he'd be waiting for her in the living room.

He wanted to _talk_.

She was familiar with the tone. She'd used it often enough when trying to force him to be straight with her when he was bottling up his problems. Never once had she thought it would be turned on her. Nodding meekly, she went about doing exactly as he told her to, all inner turmoil as she did it. This was the cost of having her best friend go to the same school as she did. He'd see for himself what her life was exactly like. Not the picture she'd been painting for him over the phone all of these years. With trepidation, she marched back down stairs dressed in a comfy t-shirt and sweats and joined him on the couch where he sat, hands on knees wearing a troubled expression.

"Rachel," he finally said, "Why haven't you been telling me anything?"

"Sorry."

"You have all of these things going on here. You're being harassed and getting into fights. Not only that, but you've been hunting. _By yourself_. Rachel, do you even know how dangerous it is to hunt? Dean and I weren't allowed to go on hunts until we were sixteen. And Dad was always there to look out for us. What were you thinking not tell me about all of this? We could've come here and taken care of it." He gave a frustrated sigh. "I could've helped."

"That is what I was trying to avoid," Rachel mumbled quietly.

It wasn't quiet enough because Sam heard every word. He pulled away, his posture stiff. Rachel jerked, realizing what that must have sounded like to him.

"Wait, Sam, I-"

"So you sit there and expect me to always tell you everything, but when it's your turn to tell me what's going on with you, your lips are zipped. You have all this crap to deal with and you don't have the decency to clue me in, and let me at least have the opportunity to give you some support?"

"Because you're the one who needs someone to help you Sam, when you're hurt, or upset, or running away from your family. My problems are nothing I can't handle can't handle on my own. You don't need me dumping them on you," she argued stubbornly.

"Jesus Rachel, you talk about me as if I'm an inept child that needs you to hold my hand through every remotely trying experience. You're not my mother Rachel. You're my friend. And as far as friendship goes, it's between two people. Not one person and a damn sounding wall. You don't put your life on hold to take care of me. Do you really think I'm incapable of shouldering any of your problems? That you think you don't need help every once in a while? Tell me!" he yelled, his volume increasing as he picked up momentum.

By that point, Rachel was biting back sobs. Her head hung low, and her shoulders shook. Sam sounded so angry and disappointed in her. She never wanted Sam to be angry, never wanted him to know how much trouble she was having in school. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hid her face in them. At least she could keep Sam from seeing her tears. The minute she felt arms wrap around her, her sobs only grew in intensity.

"You've told me a thousand times that a person can't go walking around carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders all the time. You need someone to help you carry the load sometimes," Sam whispered softly to her as she sniffled. "You criticize Dean for acting macho all of the time and being anti-chick flick moments, but you're doing the exact same thing. So please talk to me. Even if it's people bullying you or strange guys not leaving you alone. Especially if there's a hunt. I'll always be there to back you up if you need me. Understand?"

"Yes," came her weak answer.

Eventually, he released her and sat back. Rubbing her eyes, she looked at him chagrined.

"I just wanted stop being a burden. You fought my battles for me back when we were kids. I just wanted to learn how to fight for myself."

"I think you're taking it a little too literal by actually getting into fights Rachel. Aren't you the one who always tells me not to fight at school?"

"That's different."

"How so?"

She swallowed.

"I um..."

"Exactly."

She scowled.

"Stop making sense. I'm the one who is supposed to win our arguments," she said pouting.

"I've got to win some sometimes." He smiled, no longer upset with her. "So tell me about this Puck kid and how I keep him away from you without getting stabbed."

Rachel didn't want to, but she couldn't help bursting into giggles.

* * *

AN: Okay, here's the dilemma. My inner fangirl shipper is being super wishy washy. She keeps changing her mind about who to pair Rachel with. Definitely a Winchester. Two particular Winchesters. Sam actually made a come back. After I watched these two episodes of SPN, my decision was swayed. In_ Darkside of the Moon_, it's mentioned that Sam actually went to a school named McKinley and in_ Swan Song_, his high school prom date's name was Rachel. _RACHEL_. Is that a sign or what?

But then there's the other Winchester on my mind. And no, it's not Dean. Or Papa Winchester. If you've seen enough SPN, then you know who I'm thinking about. Wink wink. He is adorable. I might possibly like him more than Sam (and I thought that it was impossible to like another SPN character more than Sam). So to end my agony of deciding, I'm gonna do a poll between them. It won't have much effect on the plot. As I said in past chapters, the story is ultimately meant to focus on Sam and Rachel's friendship. Whether it develops past that point is not meant to be of consequence.

On another note, you may already see AU Glee things cropping up. Do not be alarmed. It's intentional. (I heart Brittany.)

* * *

Last Edited: 4-12-12


	7. Pt II: Teenage Dirtbag

Teenage Dirtbag

_Her boyfriend's a dick_  
_He brings a gun to school_  
_And he'd simply kick_  
_My ass if he knew the truth_

Wheatus

* * *

WARNING: Some mentions of a suicide.

* * *

The paper he had in his hand was suddenly furiously snatched away the minute he met up with her. Rachel wasn't even reading it thoroughly, just letting her eyes sweep over it, catching bits and phrases here and there. She didn't need to read the whole thing. The title was enough to tell her everything about the article's contents and spin.

_The Secret Life and Loves of Rachel Berry_

_by Jacob Ben Israel_

_What do you see when you glimpse the girl known as Rachel Barbra Berry? There's been much controversy thanks to the combination of her modest argyle sweaters and socks, matched with those scraps of fabric that can hardly claim to be skirts these days. Is she really the conservative type? You'd think that if you only looked at her flawless academics and club participation. However, much can be said about leanings towards her more deviant nature, and her short, short skirts are only the beginning..._

Viciously, she shredded the paper in her hand.

"You know, I wasn't done reading that," Sam remarked dryly.

"This is the world's smallest violin, Sam," Rachel said, rubbing her thumb and pointer finger together in his direction, "You and I both know that, that trash, is posted online for all and sunder to see."

"Don't worry about it," he said reassuringly, letting his arm fall across her shoulders as they walked.

"How can I not?" She fumed. "I'm being publicly made out to be a heartless harlot who has been stringing Noah along while having another man on the side. I'm not even a Broadway star yet and already I am experiencing slander. Girls like Santana Lopez do many times worse and there's not a thing about them."

"So it's Noah now?' he asked, his expression innocent but she knew better, "Anyways, how often does this kid, Jacob, write this kind of stuff about you?"

"Weekly basis," she mumbled, "He even has a poll running on how long it will be before I give in and say yes to Noah. There's another on how long it will be before I instigate a fight with someone. Absolutely ridiculous if you ask me."

"Well, you remember our agreement don't you? No fighting."

"Self-defense is allowed, correct?"

"Yes," Sam replied, "So who is Finn Hudson? He was mentioned in that article too."

If it was possible, Rachel's mood got stormier.

"He's the new male lead for New Directions." She frowned. "Finn is attractive in a... well, dopey, unassuming sort of way. And his voice is excellent, if a bit rough, and I have high hopes for him. But that's it. I feel nothing for him beyond that. He may be nicer than the average jock, but..."

"But what?"

"He has a girlfriend. Who is a Cheerio. The way everyone seems see it, I'm still a horrible tramp whose trying to steal him away from his wonderful girlfriend. And it's nothing like that at all. And, I mean, it's not like he and I have anything in common, what with me being me and him being him and well, I know he'd never be interested in someone like me..."

"So you do like him."

"How could you possibly come to that conclusion?" He gave her a look and she wilted underneath it. "Am I really that transparent?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he laughed, shooting a smile down at her.

Sighing, Rachel closed her eyes and let her head fall against his chest.

"This sucks."

"That's high school for you. One more year, though, and I'll be done with the drama."

That managed to get a chuckle out of her.

"For you maybe. Don't forget, I still have about three more years worth of the drama."

"Buck up. You're an actress Rachel, drama is you're thing."

Any comeback she was planning was interrupted when she felt herself being yanked away from Sam. Her eyes flew open and she took in what was going on. Noah Puckerman had her wrist held tightly in his hand. Peering around Noah, Sam had his back against the wall looking as stunned as she did. She tried to look back up at Noah, but it was hard to see his face because he had her behind him as if he was making himself a physical barrier between her and Sam. Experimentally, she wiggled her arm to see if the grip on her wrist would come off. It didn't.

"Noah, if you could please unhand me, I'd truly appreciate it. I was on my way to class and you are delaying me."

"You and me Berry, we need to talk," Puck said, as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"Hey." Sam took a careful step forward, his hand out. "She told you to let her go."

"Stay out of this Sasquatch," Puck snarled, pointing at the taller male threateningly. He looked back at Rachel, "Seriously, we need to talk. In private." His eyes slid over Sam. "No civvies."

Her face went pale.

"Do you know what it is?" she asked fearfully.

"Berry!" Puck hissed, motioning at their confused third party.

"For the love of-" Rachel took a deep breath. "Sam knows about that, so anything you have to say, you can say it in front of him."

For a second, Puck seemed like he wouldn't, his expression mutinous as he glared at Sam then at her. Finally, he released her and took a step back so he could speak to both of them.

"It's probably a ghost," Puck guessed, sounding more than a bit reluctant, "The EMF meters hooked up in the computer lab were going haywire the last time I saw them when I went hunting for nerds to throw in dumpsters."

Both Sam and Rachel pulled faces at Puck's admittance of nerd abuse, but dismissed their distaste of his behavior to think over more pressing matters, like the ghost.

"Wait, this guy knows about hunting Rachel?" Sam asked, "I thought Brittany was the only one of your friends who knew."

"Well, Noah and I..." Rachel paused. "You remember how you got upset about me hunting on my own?"

"Yeah..." Sam answered, not liking where this was going.

"I sort of haven't been hunting alone. Noah comes and helps me out."

His face immediately grew angry. Rachel recognized it as one of what Dean had dubbed as Sam's "bitch faces." She sighed, knowing for the second time since Sam had arrived at McKinley, that she was totally in for it once they were alone. There wasn't much time to think on how screwed she was, because the three teens heard a scream coming from down the hall. In a second, they were all sprinting in the direction it had come from, Sam in the lead, Rachel a couple of steps behind him. Puck was at her side giving her a look that was asking her several questions at once. She tried to ignore it as she followed Sam, trying to convey to Puck that they were going to be deferring to Sam on this one. They finally arrived at origin of the noise which was an office. Its door flung open and inside it was a mess. Rachel had her hand ghosting over the place just under her skirt where she kept a knife strapped on her thigh and hidden at all times. Both of the males did something similar themselves, also armed and at the ready.

It was Miss Pillsbury's office.

"Miss Pillsbury!" Rachel yelled, stepping inside and pulling out her knife.

"Wh-who's there?" came a weak response.

Scanning the room, she caught a flash of red and movement just beyond the desk. She rushed over to find the counselor huddled between her desk and the wall, shaking uncontrollably. Her hair and clothes were out of order, and her eyes were wide and crazed with fear. In her hands was clutched a letter opener, now pointed at Rachel.

"Miss Pillsbury," Rachel said, quickly hiding the knife and holding her hands out to the woman and speaking in a soothing voice.

The woman flinched at the movement, but didn't lower the letter opener.

"Miss Pillsbury," the girl repeated, "It's me. Rachel Berry. You know me. I come in here many times a week to talk to you about why I keep getting detentions."

A nod. Moving very slowly, Rachel got down to the frightened woman's level.

"I need you to not point that at me." The woman's grip on her weapon only tightened. "You don't have to let go of it, you can keep it if it makes you feel safer. But you need to not point it at me. I'm here to help you Miss Pillsbury."

Finally, the redhead seemed to be calming down. She did as Rachel said and lowered the letter opener, though she kept it in her hands.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Rachel finally asked.

"You'll think I'm crazy," Miss Pillsbury said, her eyes falling down to look at the knife.

"Why?" Sam asked, speaking for the first time.

Spooked, Miss Pillsbury shot to her feet, back still to the wall. She stared at Sam for a while, then at Puck, barely recognizing either boy.

"It's okay," Rachel said, stepping forward and laying a cautious hand on the woman's shoulder. She would have put it on her arm or hand, but she was worried if she touched the woman's exposed skin, it would be the last straw for the jumpy counselor's frazzled nerves, "Sam and Noah are here to help as well. Now I need you to tell me, no matter how crazy you think it is, what happened."

The counselor took a shuddering breath, glanced at all three teens, and proceeded to tell them. Rachel felt her heart go out to Miss Pillsbury. It had been a ghost attack, not that Miss Pillsbury knew that yet. Even worse was that the ghost was someone Miss Pillsbury knew. An old student from McKinley High who had committed suicide. It had happened years ago, before Rachel herself had come to McKinley High. But Miss Pillsbury had been here. She'd been counseling the student, Alex Hanks, who had been going through a hard time with school. Things had been a lot like they were now, vicious school bullies, teachers who didn't care enough, and of course, there was Sue Sylvester, the ray of sunshine that she was. Alex, who had also been experiencing troubles at home, just got to a point where he could no longer deal. He'd killed himself on campus.

Obviously, considering the awful way he died, he'd finally progressed into becoming a vengeful spirit.

One that was now targeting Miss Pillsbury.

"And-And," Miss Pillsbury sobbed, "He came at me. Really fast, flashing in and out. Yelling and screaming, 'You didn't help me!' I don't know why, but when I grabbed the letter opener to defend myself and waved it at him, he vanished. He...He disappeared right in front of my eyes."

Then Miss Pillsbury dissolved into tears and hysteria once more.

* * *

It took them some time, but they managed to coax as much information out of her as they could about Alex. In particular, information on what had been done with his body after his death. It was a little troubling to find out that his parents had had him cremated. That made it difficult trying to figure out just what they needed to salt and burn to remove his spirit from this plane. Rachel had herself excused from school so she could accompany Miss Pillsbury home. Her reasoning to the Glee club was that the counselor was going through some family issues and needed someone to talk to. Mr. Shuester had offered to accompany her, but Rachel managed to convince him that it wouldn't be necessary. Both Sam and Puck knew that it was because someone needed to watch Miss Pillsbury. She was shaken and in danger of another attack. If she was at home and Rachel was there watching over her, she'd be safer.

Though he didn't show it, Sam was relieved because he knew Rachel would be safer off campus and away from the ghost.

Even if he was incredibly angry with her right now.

Before she'd left with Miss Pillsbury, they'd talked out the details of how the hunt. It was unfortunate that he couldn't call his dad and Dean in. At the moment, they had two hunts that had them on the other side of the state handling a ghoul and a chupacabra a state over after that. They'd be busy handling those two hunts for a couple weeks at least. After this attack on Miss Pillsbury, it wasn't safe to take any chances. Most of the students Alex had gone to school with, his tormentors, had already graduated. That meant there were less people they needed to worry about getting attacked. The down side was that there was plenty of staff was ripe for the picking. All three teens put their money on Miss Sylvester easily being the next victim of Alex. Though none of them were fond of the poisonous woman, they wouldn't let her get preyed upon by an angry ghost, no matter how much she'd deserved it. That was why while Rachel was taking care of the Miss Pillsbury, Sam would have to team up with Puck to take care of Alex tonight. It was an arrangement neither boy was very happy with.

That was how later that night, Sam found himself in the passenger seat of Puck's junked out pick-up truck, glaring at the dashboard and trying to ignore the driver of said vehicle. He already wanted to strangle the kid. He was like a younger, stupider version of Dean, with all of the swagger and obnoxious classic rock to boot. As badly as he wanted to reach over and turn it down, he held back. If the kid were anymore like Dean, Sam would either be sporting a black eye or simply ejected from the car. Most probably the latter, because obviously Puck liked him about as much, if not way less, than he did Puck.

"So what are we burning?" Puck drawled.

"Rachel said there's still a memorial to Alex somewhere in the school. She thinks that maybe there are some belongings of his set up there that are keeping him anchored to the school," Sam answered.

"Torch the kid's stuff, cool."

They sat in silence for the rest of the car ride. Puck pulled into the vacant school parking lot and the two of them made their way in. A quick perusal as they walked confirmed that there was no one on campus, not even the janitors. Once they located the building Rachel had indicated the memorial was located in, they stopped and looked at each other.

"So..."

"Want me to kick the door in? Cause I can totally do that."

Sam gave Puck an incredulous look before tossing his flashlight to the other male and pulling his lock picking kit out from the back pocket of his jeans and starting in on the lock on the door.

"Dude, you know how to pick locks?" Puck asked, not able to keep a trace of awe out of his voice.

"Yeah," Sam replied, "It's something I picked up from my dad."

"You mean your old man taught you how to pick locks? That's kind of cool in a fucked up way."

"It's unfortunately a necessary skill to have to be a good hunter," Sam said, feeling the need to defend his dad to this stranger even if he himself didn't like the fact his dad had taught him it.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

With one last wiggle of the lock pick, there was a clicking sound signalling he'd done it. He pulled it out, tucked it away, and pulled the door open, gesturing for Puck to head in first with a little flourish. The boy seemed to be caught somewhere between admiration and annoyance towards his taller companion. Giving Sam his flashlight back, he trudged in, stalking huffily several feet ahead. Sam followed at a more sedate pace, though he made sure he was close to Puck at all times in case the ghost realized the threat they posed to it and went after them. When they reached the glass cabinet that held Alex's memorial shrine, they took a look at what was there. There was a nice bronze plaque with the boy's name inscribed on it. There was a picture of Alex, a kind of lanky, weak looking kid with a kind, if timid, smile. Some of the items gathered around the plaque included a pair of goggles, some beakers, and a pair of gloves. A Chemistry geek by the looks of it.

"Ugh," Puck mock retched beside him, "A geek. Now that's why he got picked on."

With irritation born half out of reaction to the boy's insensitivity, half from anger at himself for thinking exactly the same thing Puck had said, Sam elbowed Puck in the side. He received a dirty look in turn for it. Puck opened his mouth as if to say something, or swear, when he was thrown into the wall by an invisible force. A second later, the spirit materialized between where Sam stood and Puck had crumpled to the ground. It was Alex. Blood dripped from the apparitions wrists, where they'd been slit when he'd done himself in. Before it could do anything more, Sam had a gun pulled out from the duffel he'd had slung on his shoulder and unloaded a salt round into the thing. It disappeared. Satisfied they were out of danger for at least the next thirty seconds, he handed the gun to Puck and took another out for himself.

"Cover me," he ordered and turned to the glass.

There was no time to try and mess with the lock on the cabinet. Sam lifted the gun and drove it as hard as he could into the glass. It shattered on impact. He grabbed the goggles, the beaker, and the gloves. The sound of gunshots behind him urged him to move faster. Dumping them in a trashcan nearby, he riffled in his bag and pulled out the salt, lighter fluid and matches out. In less than a minute, the contents of the trashcan were set ablaze. He turned to the sound of a fading scream and saw the ghost of Alex burn away. Puck was where he'd left him, breathing quick, heavy breaths, gun slack at his side. Neither needed to exchange any words to know that they needed to high tail it out of there the minute the fire alarms started going off.

* * *

The next morning, the school was abuzz with talk of the vandalism and arson that had occurred the night previously. A scathing article was written and posted online by lunch about how whoever had done the deed had fallen to a new low for McKinley, trashing the memorial of a kid who'd committed suicide. Only three students and one faculty member knew the truth. Rachel, Sam, and Puck had all been called into Miss Pillsbury's office at lunch to discuss what happened.

"Now, I'm not sure I fully believe you three when you tell me that you burned down that memorial to exorcise a vengeful spirit," the redhead said with a level, yet somehow accusatory tone of voice that caused both Rachel and Sam, who were good kids at heart, to cringe, "For all I know, you could have used my breakdown yesterday as an excuse to vandalize the school."

"Miss Pillsbury, please, let me-"

"Rachel, I'm not done talking," the counselor interrupted, pointing one silencing finger in Rachel's direction, "It all seems very crazy, ghosts, and hunting, and stuff. But I am willing to give you three the benefit of the doubt. If I reported you, all that would achieve is getting two of you expelled. I don't want to ruin your high school careers, not yours so early on Mr. Puckerman, or yours, Mr. Winchester, during your senior year." She sighed. "Somewhere deep down, I think I believe you. I think that A-Alex...really was there yesterday. Really did attack me. If ghosts are real, and you freed him from haunting McKinley, than I can't thank you enough for finally putting him to rest."

"You're welcome, and thank you Miss Pillsbury," Sam said earnestly.

"Yeah Miss P," Puck agreed, for the first time since coming into the room dropping his negative countenance. He'd been expecting her to nail them for it.

"You three can go now. If something like this ever happens again, I want the three of you to tell me about it. You're just kids. I know you might feel like you need to take care of these things on your own and that we adults won't understand, and most probably won't, but I want to know that if you need help, I'm here."

That said, they exited Miss Pillsbury's office.

"I've got to go," Rachel said the minute they were out, "The others are going to get concerned if they don't see me before lunch's end. I need to make up some sort of explanation as to why I missed most of the rest of school yesterday." She gave both boys a pointed glare. "I'm really proud of the two of you for not killing each other yesterday. Please don't decide today that you want to engage in fisticuffs while my back is turned. Do you hear me?"

Her expression was pleasant, but something in her eyes was decidedly false and sinister.

"Yes Rachel."

"Yes Berry."

"Good. See you later!"

She gave them a sunny smile and skipped off.

"Damn," Puck finally said, his eyes trailing after her as she departed, "She's fucking hot when she gets all subtly threatening like that."

Frowning, Sam smacked the back of Puck's mohawked head.

"Shit, just saying," Puck muttered with a scowl. He stared at Sam thoughtfully for a minute, "I really want to hate you Winchester."

"You don't?" Sam asked, honestly surprised.

"Well, you're kind of an uptight prick, a geek, and you're dating the girl I'm in love with. But I've gotta respect you as a kick ass hunter. You were awesome last night. Even I admit, I'm a badass, but you and Berry are like on some other level of badassery." Puck stopped and turned to face Sam, determined. "But I'm not going to give up on her. Just because I might consider us friends or something right now, doesn't mean I'm above using whatever methods I can to steal her from you. Got it?"

"Sure," Sam said with a chuckle.

"You just wait Winchester. You'll see."

Puck began to walk away.

"You know Puck, she and I aren't really together," Sam called out to him.

The mohawked boy threw an incredulous look over his shoulder at Sam.

"Who do think you're kidding, dude?"

* * *

AN: I wrote this chapter thinking about this song. I knew I wanted to do the Puck vs. Sam showdown, but this was the perfect song for it. Oh my golly gosh. So, for all of you expecting a fight between these two, nah sorry. I kind of like Mentor!Sam to Puck more. It might happen later, but I feel like with Puck being a mini Dean, I can't pass up the opportunity. Also, for anyone offended by the suicide I'm sorry. It's actually a little bit of an in memoriam for a favorite character of mine from this show called _Roswell_ who was just killed off. The boy who died shares the same name as the character as well as the last name of the real life actor. I don't own him, he's the property of Katims.

* * *

Last Edited: 4-12-12


	8. Pt II: Every Breath You Take

Every Breath You Take

_Every step you take, I'll be watching you_

The Police

* * *

Rachel sat, perched on the hood of her car, despite the fact that it was winter, she was currently dressed in a leotard, and at her size, could contract hypothermia at a high rate than other people would. Though she should be trying to sit in her car and warm herself up, the day had not been a very good one, and the cool air actually helped her think more clearly. From where she was seated, she could spot the tow truck she called for coming from a mile away once it arrived. It was with surprise that she noticed a car slowing down and then pulling to a stop just ahead of her car. She hadn't gotten a clear look at the driver, which was why she was filled with even more surprise when she saw just whom it was getting out and heading her way.

Mike Chang.

"Hello Michael," Rachel greeted, confused but nonetheless glad to see him.

"Hi Rachel," he said pleasantly, waving up at her, "I saw you here and wanted to ask if you needed any help. Your car need a jump or something?"

"If only," she replied, "My car has a flat tire. Unless you have car jack and a spare somewhere in you trunk, I think I'm just going to have to wait for assistance."

Mike winced.

"I have the jack, but the spare I lent to Matt because one of his tires went flat earlier this week too. Sorry," he apologized, embarrassed and looking down.

"No, no, don't worry about it!" Rachel assured him, "It's okay. They're going to be here any minute now to tow my car."

"Was there anywhere you needed to be?" Mike asked, "Cause if you need a lift, then I'm your Asian, bad driving included."

She couldn't help the giggle that slipped out of her lips at the joke. Mike was so funny when he actually spoke up. It was a shame he didn't do it more in glee, or in general. Ever since he and the other football players had joined, Rachel had made a lot of effort to reach out to both him and Matt as their most silent members. She had plenty of experience with shy people thanks to Sam and Tina. While Matt had become more out spoken after the first week, Mike remained pretty reserved. Still, he danced in class more and more often and she'd finally worked him up from monosyllabic responses to full out conversation, if only when it was just the two of them speaking together in private.

Just as she was about to tell him the address and detailed directions to get to the motel Sam and his family were staying at, she caught herself. She was sure it would sound terrible telling Mike to take her to a motel. She also remembered just then the hunt Sam told her his dad was taking him on to help their cover. He wasn't allowed to stay behind like most occasions. In the middle of fifth period he'd texted her to tell her Dean had picked him up in the middle of class. She'd almost had a panic attack thinking that they were leaving until he assured her it was just a weeklong hunt up in Wisconsin. Even if she had really wanted to see him after dance class and take advantage of shoulder leaning privileges, he was probably already packed and on the road with his dad and Dean.

"Um," Rachel said, thinking about it some more. She didn't want to go straight home either because these dads her dads stayed out late working. "Could you take me to the music library please?"

That would at least mildly cheer her up.

"You mean Lima actually has one of those?" Mike asked incredulously, holding a hand out to her to help her down.

"Yes," Rachel affirmed, taking the offered hand and hopping down, "It's quite nice. I was intending to go there and find something for our hello assignment for Glee."

"Cool." The tall Asian fiddled with edges of his Letterman jacket before looking at her. "Would you mind if I come with? I need to find something too. I kind of have no idea what to do."

Rachel placed a hand on his arm.

"I think Mr. Shuester said we're allowed to present in groups if we want to. Would you like to work with me?" She gave him an encouraging smile.

Mike let out a huge breath, and shot her a wider smile than any other she'd received in the past.

"Sounds awesome. Would you mind if Matt was in our group too?"

"Not at all Michael."

He was quick to whip out his phone and fire off a text to Matt. Rachel watched him do it fondly. From what she got watching the two boys interact, theirs was a very close childhood friendship that reminded her a lot of her own with Sam.

Her best friend who wasn't going to be around this whole week and miss her pity party dairy free ice cream fest, she reminded herself glumly.

After coming to an agreement about performing together, Rachel and Mike had waited until the tow truck arrived ten minutes later before heading off to the music library. They chatted on the drive over, about classes, about how they both attended the same dance studio and never realized it, and finally discussing just how they'd do the number. Mike admitted to her that neither he nor Matt had the greatest singing voices. They'd be more comfortable doing back up vocals and choreography if she wanted to take care of the rest. Considering Mike was best dancer in the club bar maybe Brittany, Rachel had no problem leaving that part of it in his hands. The deal was even more attractive because she of course got the solo all to herself. While Rachel usually quelled her urge to diva fit as often as she felt she deserved to (she realized that the others _had _to have solos _sometimes_), she loved it when she got the spotlight all to herself, completely unchallenged.

The two of them browsed the music selection, tossing around suggestions like the Beatles's "Hello, Goodbye" (a Mike choice) or "Hello Dolly!" from its namesake musical (definitely a Rachel choice). Mike had shot down Rachel's choice because it was too show tunesy and Rachel had shot down his because half the glee club was probably already doing that song and they should try to be original.

"But 'Hello, Goodbye' is the best hello song ever!" Mike whined, causing Rachel to laugh at him.

"Oh fine. If you really want to do that one, we'll keep it on reserve. If I don't find anything tonight, we'll default to it and practice it," Rachel said, finally breaking down.

Giving a whoop, Mike pumped his fist in the air. Rachel mock pouted, facing away from him. Suddenly, she felt ill at ease. There was a prickle on the back of her neck. She turned back to Mike, who wasn't paying attention to her, still cheering himself on his victory. And then her eye caught something past him. In the back of the library, the lights were flickering. A shiver ran down her back when, for a split second, she thought she saw the form of a boy. His intense eyes on hers for the short duration. Promising. Promising something.

And then he was gone and the light stopped flickering.

"Hey Rachel?"

Next thing she knew, a big hand with long thin fingers was being waved in front of her face. Her attention snapped to the hand and then to the person it belonged to. Mike was looking at her with concern.

"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She almost gasped out a laugh at the irony of the statement.

"I'm alright. But, I think I'm quite finished for the day." She glanced at where she'd seen the lights going on and off, wondering if she'd just imagined it. "Will you be giving me a ride home Michael?"

On his feet the minute she said it, he was holding his hand out to her to help her to her feet. There was some playfulness in the way he did the over-exaggerated gentleman act while escorting her to the car, even opening the car door for her, but she could tell Mike trying to hide that he was still worried. It made her wonder just how bad her face had looked when she'd seen whatever it was. The car ride back was quiet, though it was more comfortable and contemplative than awkward. The only times the quiet was interrupted was when either her phone or Mike's went off with a text. She was too distracted to scold him for looking at his phone while driving. When they finally reached her house, she thanked Mike for the ride and accompanying her to the music library. They parted, negotiating practice times with Matt tomorrow. As she watched him drive away, she pulled her phone out again and considered sending Sam a text about what happened. She decided to let it go as she went to go inside. She'd look into it on her own or, she thought reluctantly, pass it over to Puck.

* * *

Days later, she'd gotten nowhere every time she searched for leads on the possible ghost boy. After looking through old newspapers for the last century, she hadn't found any reports of violent deaths of teenage boys that matched the boy she'd seen at the library. Eventually, she'd dismissed the sighting as her tired mind playing tricks on her, and devoted her time to hanging out with her friends and practicing with Matt and Mike on their 'd had their arrangement done so quickly, Rachel had been surprised. She was unused to partners who actually worked when she wanted them to and practiced like actually cared about what they were doing. Thing went more smoothly when she was paired with a girl for a glee assignment, and were at their worst when her partner was Finn.

Speaking of Finn, he'd approached her to get her to forgive him for dumping her for Santana and Brittany and take to him back. She was still feeling bitter about being dumped and told him in as many words as she could muster that she didn't want anything to do with him outside of glee. He'd looked so confused, she'd had to repeat herself more slowly and simply, like how she'd explain things to a child or Brittany, to get it into his head that she wanted him to stay away from her. Rachel wouldn't be lying if she said she didn't get some satisfaction out of seeing him beg and look so disappointed when he got shot down. What she really didn't understand was how he thought that after the way he'd treated her, she was going to take him back just like that.

It had been a fairly normal day so far and she'd as much of it as she could sitting with Mike and Matt, all three of them talking about how they were going to be awesome. Once they'd gotten to glee, they volunteered to go first and then she was singing as Mike and Matt danced around and with her. The rest of the club and Mr. Shuester were on their feet dancing, singing, and clapping along, a good sign that they had put together a knock out show. When they were finished, they took their bows to heavy applause. Tina, Artie, Mercedes, and Kurt all mobbed her while Brittany and the others went to Mike and Matt, cheering for them and clapping them on the back. Both and Finn and Puck seemed to want to come over and talk to her as well, but she ignored it. She didn't really want to talk to either of them right now. Brittany had no reservations, and after complimenting Mike on the choreography and dancing, was bouncing over and gushing about how great it was.

"Hey, everyone settle down!" Mr. Shuester called out.

Everyone quieted to whispers and got into their seats. Rachel decided to sit with Mike, who was by himself in the corner, patting Matt on the arm and giving him a smile as she went. Once Mr. Shuester had everyone's attention, he spoke.

"Okay, first, I'd like to say, job well done Rachel, Matt, Mike." Everyone started clapping and whistling again. When Mr. Shuester gestured to stop, they calmed again. "It's nice to see you guys shaking things up partner wise and finding a great song for the assignment. If it's possible, could you three expand it to make it a group number for the rest of the club? I think with some work, we could use this for regionals."

This evoked even more cheers as the three of them gave Mr. Shuester energetic nods. Mike held up a hand to her and she high fived him back. Full of post performance excitement, she looked around at the others. Just as she was about to face the front of the classroom, her gaze swept slowly across the window panel of the door that lead out to the hall. There was someone standing there, watching them. Looking a little closer, she recognized the face. She stood so quickly in her shock, she threw her chair back. The resulting clatter it made drew the attention of the rest of the club. They looked prepared for her usual dramatic antics, like maybe she was going to jump into a long blow-by-blow analysis of the performance. But she had nothing to say. She glanced back at the window and there was no one there this time.

"Is there something you'd like to say Rachel?" Mr. Shuester asked, sensing there was something wrong.

Not intending to, she locked eyes with Puck's, who caught the terror she knew had to be obvious in her own.

"I-I-," Rachel stammered, "I think I am feeling unwell Mr. Shuester. May I b-be excused to go see the nurse?"

Mr. Shuester frowned with teacherly concern. "Go ahead. Do you need someone to accompany you there?"

"No, I-" she tried to refuse.

"I wi-" Mike had been starting at the same time, beginning to stand from beside her. A couple of rows in front of them, Finn too was getting up as well to offer himself as well.

"I'm taking her," Puck said, already up and crossing the room to stop at her side and take her arm, "Come on Berry, let's go."

Though she wanted to protest, she allowed him take her out of the room, trying not to notice the hatefully angry looks that passed between Puck and Finn, or the suspicious glances Quinn and Santana shot her. Instead she focused on the well wishes that she'd feel better she was getting from her friends. Soon she and Puck were in the hall, alone. Puck didn't say anything for a while, but he kept his hand on her upper arm and his eyes on the hall ahead of them, glancing behind them every now and then. One turn around the corner later, Puck was pulling her into a closet. She had a second to reorient herself and adjust to the dim lighting before he was interrogating her.

"What happened in glee?"

"I think I saw a ghost," Rachel answered.

If it had been anyone else, bar her best friend and probably Brittany, she would have never been taken seriously.

"You sure?" he asked her, "The emf meters have been normal all day."

"I don't think it's a ghost that's haunting the school."

"How do you know that?" His eyes narrowed.

"I've seen it before."

There was a loud bang and startled, she backed into one of the walls. It wasn't very far. Puck was only a foot away from her, with his fist balled up and smashed against the wall opposite her. The anger she saw in him was usually directed at someone else, and not at her.

"You fucking knew about this ghost and you didn't think to tell me about it?" he snarled at her.

"No, I thought it was nothing!" Rachel tried to explain.

"Dammit Rachel, we've been hunting together for almost two years now. This is the kind of shit I need to know. Especially if one of those fucking things is walking my turf, where my kid is!" He faltered for a second. "Even if you're still pissed off at me about getting Quinn drunk that night-"

"And I am!" Rachel yelled back, not willing to let him talk to her that way, "Don't you dare think you can come at me demanding me to trust you when you can't keep yourself from taking advantage of an obviously distressed, inebriated girl! While I understand Quinn wasn't completely innocent in the deed, what you did was vile. She was your best friend's girlfriend."

"You gonna keep telling me things I already know? I know I'm a screwed up Lima loser. It was already bad enough hearing it from Quinn." His eyes pierced her with such emotion. Remorse. Self-loathing. "You don't think I get tired of being one all the time? You don't think I wish I could be perfect like Finnocence or your precious Sam walks-on-water Winchester?" He stepped into her space, taking her face in his hands. "When are you ever going to look at me the way you look at them?"

Then his lips were on hers.

It took all her strength to push his larger form off of hers.

"Noah!"

His name came out more breathless than angry, the way she intended it to be. Puck stared back at her, looking guilty, but not backing away.

"I can't help it Rachel."

The usually cocky, foul-mouthed jock she knew and from time to time enjoyed associating with when he wasn't being an overbearing jerk, stood before her, vulnerable and upset. And as badly as she wanted to scream at him, she started to feel some of her righteous fury at him for kissing her, for what he did to Quinn, ebb away somewhat. She remembered he was just a teenage boy, like she just a teenage girl, and he made mistakes. Of course, his mistakes were of the life altering variety, what with the impending birth of his baby with Quinn. That still didn't change the fact that he had a lot on his plate to deal with just like she did and what they didn't need was to be fighting over it. Calmly, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him even farther away, quickly retracting her arm and ending the contact. Feeling a little insecure, she crossed her arms and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry I don't return your feelings Noah."

"You will some day."

"Maybe. But today, I don't." His wince sent a jolt of guilt through her like a punch to the gut. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the ghost. I thought I was imagining it the first time. I didn't even tell Sam."

"So what do you know about it?" Puck asked, his tone taking on a professional note, but there was no disguising the secret pleasure he seemed to take in knowing he'd been told before Sam.

"Next to nothing. This was only the second time I've seen it. Last time, it was at the music library when Michael and I were working on our project together."

Puck's expression grew apprehensive.

"Berry, these things usually like to stay and haunt one place."

"I know," she said grimly.

"If it's showing up in more than one place, and you're the only one who's seen it then..."

"I'm probably its target," she finished for him.

"You don't go anywhere alone anymore, Berry," he ordered.

"I can take care of myself Noah," she argued stubbornly.

"Yeah, but it's better if you have someone watching your back. I'm gonna tell Miss P. That way if anything goes down, she'll be able to cover for us." He sighed. "And you're going to call Winchester and tell him to get his ass back to Lima ASAP. While I know I can handle babysitting you-" "_Hey!_" she cried indignantly, "on my own, he's better with the technical stuff of hunting. That and he has access to a shit load of guns and salt."

"But-"

"No buts Rachel," Puck said cutting her off, "Even if he's on some big top secret hunt, it's coming after you. What kind of douche would he be if he left his girl in the lurch?" He eyed her before smirking. "And since you're the target, that makes you the damsel in distress and me in charge for now. So that means you do what I," he jerked his thumb at himself, "say and you don't get to complain. I'm gonna gank this thing before comes near you or my kid again."

Before she could continue arguing with him, he was yanking her out of the closet and walking them back to glee.

* * *

Sam had freaked when he heard about the ghost that was currently stalking her. He'd been just as upset with her as Puck had been when he heard she hadn't told him about the first sighting. Except he hadn't let her off the hook for dismissing the strange sighting as her imagination. After knowing about the supernatural for the last seven years, she should never write off anything strange as nothing. And Puck thought he had nothing in common with Sam. The two both treated her like she helpless and fragile and needed to be protected one hundred percent of the time. With Sam, she got that she had to prove she was proficient since he'd been hunting longer than she had, but for show choir's sake! She'd saved Puck 's life several times over. He of all people should know a little salt and burn was nothing for her.

Regardless of the fact they were still flying blind on this ghost situation.

Puck had taken to shadowing her every move immediately. In only one day, the rest of the glee club had been highly suspicious and demanding to know what was up. To her humiliation, he'd made up an elaborate excuse about some weirdo stalking her and how he was serving as a bodyguard. This of course brought all of her friends in the club down upon her, angry that she hadn't been forth coming with what was "going on" with her. So when Puck wasn't there to watch her, there was at least one of the guys plus at least one or two of the girls forming a protective unit around her at school and someone, usually Mike, would accompany her to and from her dance classes. It was astounding to see how the club was coming together for her benefit like this, even Finn and Puck seemed to be getting along. However, all of it was getting very old very fast and she was starting to resent how stifled they were making her feel. She couldn't sneeze without one of them there practically holding a tissue to her face and tell her to blow.

This morning had started a less than ordinary Monday. Mercedes, Tina, Kurt and Brittany had slept over the entire weekend, claiming that they wanted girl time. Rachel knew better but let them stay. She was on her way to her first class, with her current security detail, Matt, Kurt and Quinn, flanking her. Quinn was telling them both about the baby and her last visit to the doctor. Kurt was enthusiastically asking question after question while Rachel listened, but paid more attention to the soft look on Quinn's face as she talked about how she'd found out the baby's sex a girl. She liked this Quinn Fabray much more than the Quinn Fabray she used to be as the icy, mean girl Cheerio. Though the pregnancy had seemed like a terrible burden initially, Rachel could only see it as a miracle to change the ex-cheerleader the way it had.

Only a couple weeks ago, Quinn had apologized for everything she'd done in the past. She'd admitted that she hadn't always been popular. And that she was actually jealous of Rachel. Jealous because she'd stayed true to herself despite how people thought she was a freak and a delinquent, and had still managed to make friends with good people like Mercedes and Kurt as well as popular people like Brittany and Puck. And she'd thanked Rachel for taking supporting her when Finn had found out about Puck and the baby. It had been surprising when Quinn had actually given Rachel her blessing to pursue Finn if she really wanted to. Though Quinn's comment about how Rachel had better tall guys to choose from hadn't made much sense at the time.

(Now that she thought about it, maybe it was just Quinn's way of warning her about Finn, who had proved to be a horrible boyfriend to both of them.)

Her phone buzzing distracted her from her thoughts on Quinn, Finn and the baby. She pulled it out and opened her texts.

**From: Sam**  
_im back. going to miss 1st period. c u at lunch._

Quinn, who'd been reading the text over her shoulder, smiled knowingly at her. Everyone in the glee club knew Sam pretty well. He sat in on their practices occasionally and had been their somewhat reluctant stand-in for Finn the night of sectionals. That had won him a lot of favor from them. The only reason he hadn't stayed with the club was because Sam was probably the worst singer she'd known in her entire life and danced more poorly than Finn. There was also the fact that he didn't have the time to invest in it since as a senior, he was kept more preoccupied than they were with school work and the sports teams he'd joined up with. Mr. Shuester and the rest of the glee club had understood.

"Happy he's back?" Quinn asked with a sly smile.

Rachel could only beam at her in response.

_Can't wait!_ She texted back.

The next four periods and the additional passing periods were spent in agony. Even though she could have adjusted her route to her classes so she could see him during passing, her friends didn't want her straying to far from the direct path between each of her classes and her locker. It was with excitement that nearly boiled over that she leaped out of her seat in fourth period the minute the bell rang and made a run for the cafeteria. Brittany, the only glee member she had fourth period with, had to jog along side her to keep up. They both claimed their usual table, Rachel bouncing up and down due to all of her nervous energy while Brittany talked.

"I'm so glad Sam's come back," she said, "I keep on getting lost on my way to math without him. Sanny's class is too far away for her to walk with me."

The shorter girl patted the cheerleader on the arm sympathetically, though she had to giggle at Brittany's pout. As if Brittany talking about him summoned him, Sam entered the cafeteria, his gaze passing over the tables. It stopped on the one she and Brittany sat at and he smiled. He ambled over as Rachel stood and the minute he was within reach, she threw herself into his arms, glad to see him after a whole week of his absence.

"I missed you."

"Of course you did," he said, mirth in his voice as his hold on her tightened.

Another pair of arms snaked around them.

"I missed you."

Sam laughed loudly.

"I missed you too Brittany."

Folded in the arms of her two very tall friends, Rachel felt very happy and very safe to have Sam there with her again. They all released one another after a full minute's worth of hugging and sat down. Since it was just her and Brittany and no one else who was paying attention, Sam told her the details of the hunt. There'd been a werewolf terrorizing Madison, Wisconsin and his dad had been positive the werewolf had to be someone at the local high school that seemed like the epicenter of the killings with missing hearts. All of the deaths happened within under a five-mile radius. Sam had been enrolled at the school to believably suss out the suspect so his dad and Dean could take care of it.

"It turned out to be this guy named Zeke," Sam told her and Brittany, sadness in his green eyes, "He was the school janitor. He didn't even realize he was changing almost every night and killing the students."

Reaching across table, Rachel took his hand. The corners of his lips turned up weakly.

"It's okay Sammy-Sam," Brittany said taking his other one, "You saved lives."

"Thanks."

His eyes traveled past the two of them to the lunch line. Rachel watched as he stood and started waving in that direction. Following his line of sight, her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"Holy mother of Streisand!" the girl shrieked falling out of her seat.

In a second, Sam and Brittany were at her side, asking her what was wrong. She lifted her arm and pointed a shaky finger.

There, coming towards them, was the ghost.

Suddenly, something very odd occurred to her. Why was the ghost carrying a lunch tray? And why was he staring at her like she was a crazy person?

"Um...?" The ghost shifted from one leg to the other.

"Rachel..." Sam said slowly, "Why are you pointing at Jesse like that?"

"He's the ghost!"

"No," her best friend denied, "Jesse is not a ghost. He's a new classmate of mine in AP English."

"But..." She looked back and forth between him, and the ghost, Jesse, and Brittany, uncomprehending, "But..."

"Why am I a ghost?" Jesse asked, confused but looking indulgently amused.

"I saw you!" Rachel exclaimed, "At the music library I saw you. The lights were flickering and then you disappeared! And then I saw you again last week in the window and then you disappeared again!"

"That makes me a ghost?"

"Is he your stalker Rachel?"

Both of the boys stared at Brittany than inquiringly at Rachel.

"You have a stalker?" Sam's voice went a little high on the word stalker.

"I'm a what now?"

"Stop," Sam said. He held out a hand and hefted Rachel to her feet then gestured for all four of them to sit down, "Okay. What is going on?"

"I admit that both of those times she said she saw me, I think that was actually me," Jesse offered.

"So you're not a ghost." Jesse nodded his head in confirmation of Rachel's statement. "Alright. Then that means either you are my stalker- not that I actually thought I had one in the first place!" she said quickly to Sam and Brittany, "Or both of those times I saw you were coincidence."

The glare she gave Jesse was tinged with suspicion. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Well, I go to the music library all the time because I was in glee club at my old high school," Jesse explained, "And I was here last week because I was being given a tour of the campus. I thought it was a good idea since I was planning on transferring here. In particular, I was checking out the glee club because, like I mentioned earlier, I was in glee club at my old school and I plan on joining the glee club here." He paused, his lips forming a charming smile. "By the way, I'm Jesse St. James. I already know you're Rachel Berry, Sam's best friend and the co-president of New Directions."

He held out his hand to Rachel. She daintily put her hand in his to shake it and blushed a little when he instead brought the back of it to his lips. It was then extended to Brittany who seemed to be sizing him up.

"Jesse St. James? Do you mean like that outlaw in that movie?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it," Sam said, waving his hand dismissively.

Taking his word for it, Jesse nodded and kissed Brittany's hand in greeting as well.

"So what's you're name?"

"I'm Brittany. When we're better friends, I can invite you over to my house and introduce you to Lord Tubbington."

"Who?"

"How in the world am I going to explain all of this to Noah?" Rachel asked, turning her attention away from Jesse and Brittany's introductions to Sam.

He was about to say something, probably something he thought would be funny but just get him smacked, when they were interrupted by Brittany standing and waving both of her arms over her head.

"Hi Sanny! Hi Quinny! Hi Puck! We're sitting over here!"

Swinging around in her seat, Rachel saw the Latina, the pregnant girl and Puck headed in their direction, the rest of the glee club following not too far behind. Looking away, she resignedly resumed crash position, face in Sam's shoulder, waiting for the inevitable. Dealing with nosy, overbearing friends never got easier.

* * *

AN (1): O. M. G.

This chapter took me forever. I knew I wanted to introduce Jesse this chapter, as well as pull more of the Glee stuff into it. I felt like I was really focusing on the SPN stuff and not enough on glee. Considering the glee cast only gets the McKinley arc, to themselves, they deserve some spotlight. The heaviest characters featured, besides Rachel of course, were Puck, Brittany and Mike. Puck was kind of a given and Brittany is adorable. Mike came out of nowhere, but I liked that he was there because I approve of a Cherry friendship and I'm trying to establish friendship between Rachel and all of the glee kids. Back to the chapter, this one, and the next two were supposed to be two chapters, but I decided to expand parts and divvy them up into three. The next chapter will be the before and performance at regionals. The last will be what happens after, and then that will be the end of Part II. Hopefully you like this chapter, after the painstaking rewrites and hair pulling I spent on it. I only hate it a little, so it shouldn't be that bad.

I maintain that this song, while beautiful, is a stalker song. When I think of stalker songs, this is the first one. The second is that one by Clay Aiken.

P.S. Who actually saw the ghost being Jesse coming?

AN (2): This chapter has gone under a fair amount of reconstruction. I was kind of disgusted by its choppiness and how riddled with grammar mistakes it was. So I tried to clean it up a bit, and somehow snuck some more Finn and Quinn in. hopefully it actually it better than worse.

* * *

Last Edited: 4-13-12


	9. Pt II: I Should Tell You

I Should Tell You

_I should tell I blew the candle out  
Just to get back in  
__I'd forgotten how to smile  
__Until your candle burned my skin_

Rent

* * *

"Boys," Rachel huffed irritably.

"What did we do now?" Jesse asked wide-eyed.

Lately he'd been hanging around with her and Sam quite a bit. Her because they had glee club in common, and Sam because the two of them had several classes together. It made more sense to include him every now and then because both of them liked him a lot. He got Rachel's theater references and rolled with her dramatics, but knew how to horse around with Sam like they were regular teenage boys. Even if Sam and Rachel had to watch what the said, meaning no hunter talk around civilians, it was nice to find someone who could slot so easily into their twosome. The closest anyone ever got was Brittany, but Santana liked to hoard her time with Brit jealously.

"Not you," the girl answered him, turning a page of the book she was reading with a touch of violence.

"Who do you mean then?" Sam tried to peek over her shoulder to see what she was talking about. Helping him out, she lifted the book for him to read the title. _Lord of the Flies_ was printed on the cover.

"Oh."

"I hate this book," Rachel complained, "They... they... boys are so stupid!"

"Hey, I'm offended by that statement," Jesse whined.

"But it's true!" she insisted, "I'm sure that if it had been a whole bunch of girls stuck on that island, they wouldn't regress into homicidal savages! Poor Piggy and Simon were so misunderstood!"

"Rachel," Sam said placing a hand on the increasingly distressed girl's back and rubbing calming circles into it, "It's a book. Don't you think you're taking it a little too seriously?"

"You know," Jesse said thoughtfully, "If all of the girls were like Santana and Quinn, I could see that kind of situation playing out."

"Jesse." Sam glared at him.

"I'm just saying."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself."

* * *

"Hey Sam, wait up!"

The boy being addressed slowed up to let whoever it was calling after him to catch up. It turned out to be Finn, his long strides allowing him to easily cross the distance between them.

"Thanks," Finn said gratefully.

Together, they walked down the hall, crowds in the hall parting for them. Sam attributed it to the fact that since they were the tallest guys in school and standing next to one another. No matter how much of a loser or nerd everyone thought they were, they made a pretty intimidating pair.

"I uh, I had something I wanted to ask you Sam."

It had become a normal occurrence for one of the glee club members to come seeking him out for advice every now and then. Somehow, he'd become a sort of go to guy when they needed someone to talk to or to help them out with something. The thought of having people depend on him like that had been daunting, but Sam gave it his all. Finn in particular had taken to hanging out with him a lot. After his falling out with Puck over the big reveal of Quinn's true baby daddy, Finn had needed someone to turn to when he didn't have his girlfriend or his best friend anymore.

"What about?"

"It's, well, it's kind of about Rachel."

"Oh?"

That certainly had his interest piqued. He hadn't found out about Finn and Rachel breaking up until he'd come back from the hunt his dad and Dean had brought him on. While his first instinct had been to pester Rachel for the details, he'd sensed that she really hadn't wanted to talk about it. Which he could understand. He'd had girlfriends before and no matter how amiable the break up, ending something like that never felt very good. This had been Rachel's first relationship, so it must have hit her hard. That and it was obvious by the way the two had been avoiding each other that their friendship had been affected by the fall out of their romantic relationship. Because he'd wanted to show he respected her privacy, he didn't bring it up at all and didn't go around asking any of their friends either. It seemed, however, that he was destined to hear about it now that Finn had come to discuss it with him. He tried to school his features into polite interest and not let how insatiably curious he was seem that obvious.

"I know it was a mistake to dump Rachel."

Sam blinked.

Huh. That was news to him. He knew Rachel and Finn had broken up, but he hadn't been aware of the fact that Finn had dumped Rachel. Before he had time to ask questions or summon up the displeasure with Finn for Rachel's sake, Finn was speaking again.

"The thing with hooking up with Brittany and Santana meant nothing. I just didn't know if I was ready to get into a serious relationship again after the stuff with Quinn. I tried to apologize and tell her all of that, but she won't even give me the time of day," Finn explained.

Quickly, Sam held up a hand to stop him.

"Wait, let me get this straight. You just, dumped Rachel so you could go out with Brittany _and_ Santana because you were afraid of commitment?" Sam asked slowly.

Finn's eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Yeah, I guess, but when you put it that way, it makes me sound like a douche."

"Have you thought that maybe it was a real douche move of you to pull?" Sam regarded Finn coolly as he asked him that.

"Dude!" Finn exclaimed, obviously not liking the tone accusation he could hear in Sam's words, "I made a mistake. I apologized. I just want to get back with Rachel, but she won't even talk to me! She always busy with glee stuff or with that new guy. Jesse."

It wasn't hard at all to pick up the note of distaste in the way Jesse's name was said.

"Not everything can be fixed with just an apology Finn. I don't know how well you think you know Rachel, but she's not going to just take you back."

"Why?"

"Because from what you've told me," Sam stated, growing frustrated, "You treated Rachel like a rebound girl."

"What?" Finn's expression was stricken. "No, that, how could you think that?"

"I know Rachel and how she'd see it. You had a bad break up with Quinn and Rachel's there waiting for you conveniently. You two start dating but the minute Brittany and Santana offer, you just drop Rachel and go out with them instead. Face it Finn, even if you care about Rachel, the first thing she'd think, that I'd think, hell, anyone would think based on what you did is that you don't care at all about Rachel. Rachel may eventually forgive you after a lot of begging and pleading, but she's not going to forget about this. Girls, especially a girl like Rachel, won't forget stuff like that."

Finn looked about a minute away from blowing his top spouting denials. But in a bit personal growth Sam was glad he was baring witness to, Finn stopped, closed his mouth, and actually looked like he was thinking about everything Sam just said to him. That gave him a little hope that he wouldn't have to beat the hell out of Finn on best friend's principle to defend Rachel's honor. He kind of likes Finn and knows Rachel would kill him if she found out.

"I really screwed up, didn't I?" Finn asked quietly.

"Yeah. Yeah you did."

"And now she's going to start going out with Jesse," he muttered, jealously.

"Hey, Rachel doesn't like him that way."

"Really?"

"Don't even think about it man," Sam said seriously, seeing the hopeful look on Finn's face.

"What? Why?"

"You probably do want to be with Rachel, but it didn't work out." He reached out and put a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "You said the reason you broke up with her was because everything with Quinn kind of messed you up. I think you need to get past Quinn before you can think about having a girlfriend again or else you won't be able to have a good relationship with anyone, let alone Rachel. Take advantage of this time to do things for yourself. Focus on school, sports, and glee. Just take a break from having a girlfriend. Give being just friends a shot."

"I..." Sighing, Finn nodded. "I'll try."

"Yeah," Sam said thumping Finn on the back reassuringly.

He glanced around the now deserted hall and laughed to himself. They'd missed the warning bell to get to class.

* * *

"What's the problem?" Jesse asked confused.

"When you said surprise, you never said anything about a traveling circus," Sam accused edgily, eyeing one of the clowns.

"What's your beef with circuses?" He followed the other male's line of sight. His eyebrows shot up. "No... You've got to be pulling my leg…"

Rachel looked from Sam over to Jesse who was staring to look too satisfied for his own good. Then she saw the colorfully dressed individual that Sam was eyeing with the barely suppressed desire to either fight or flee. She remembered when she'd first found out about Sam's fear of clowns. He'd been embarrassed and felt like it was a stupid fear. While she agreed it was a little silly and irrational, she couldn't stand the thought of Jesse teasing him for it. Quickly she formed a plan to deflect Jesse's conclusions. Slipping a hand into Sam's and sucking in a deep breath, she got ready to give the best performance she could.

"They're everywhere Sam!" she shrieked, burying her face into his arm, "You've got to protect me!"

"Huh?"

Both Jesse and Sam stared at her bewildered.

"Clowns!" she cried, fat crocodile tears beginning to leak out of the corners of her eyes, "They're just... they're just everywhere!"

"You mean..." Jesse tapered off.

"I'm terrified of clowns. Look at their makeup! It's positively horrifying! Don't even get me started on their wigs..."

"Well," the transfer student breathed in astonishment, "I never would've taken you for someone who's afraid of clowns Rachel." He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry. This place must make you really uncomfortable."

"I'll be okay," she said tearfully, "Let's just please avoid the clowns while we're here."

"No problem. And if we run into any clowns, Sam and I will protect you," Jesse promised, giving her a dashing smile, "So... Wanna check out the Haunted House?"

"Sounds fun!" she cheered, suddenly putting on a happy face.

"You're so weird. Haunted Houses get you excited but clowns make you run for the hills?"

Shaking his head, Jesse took the lead. Sam and Rachel followed at a more sedate pace.

"Thanks," Sam whispered, "You know you didn't have to do that though. It's not like I don't already get made fun of by Dean."

She just squeezed his hand in response.

"I know. But even if it's just jerks or clowns, I'll always protect you."

* * *

"Hey guys!"

There were bright smiles and hellos all around as the group scooted over to make room for their new arrivals. Brittany smiled brightly back taking a seat beside Kurt, Mike, Matt and Santana slipping in on her other side. They'd thrown together a glee (plus others) coffee shop get together. It had started out as just Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Brittany wanting to get together. Then Kurt said he wanted to bring his boyfriend, and Mercedes didn't want Quinn (who'd been staying at her house ever since her parents threw her out) to feel like she was being left out, and Tina insisted Artie should come as well. Brittany finally suggested that everyone should come. The more of her friends who showed up, the funner it was going to be.

It was about fifteen minutes past the designated meeting time when Brittany got there, but Brittany was never great at being on time. Santana always told her that it was all right because as cheerios, they had the right to be "fashionably late." Brittany never got what she meant, but took extra care to look really good whenever she went places incase she didn't show up on time.

"Where's everyone else?" she asked, noticing a distinct lack of Rachel, Sam and Puck.

"Who cares?" Santana said, before engaging the person sitting next to her, Matt, in conversation.

"Yeah," Mike piped up, "Where're Rachel and Puck?"

"Rachel texted me earlier to tell me she and Sam were doing something," Kurt replied. His nose wrinkled in distaste, "Apparently Jesse's tagging along."

Many of the faces at the table mirrored his sour expression.

"What about Puck?" Matt asked.

Just as he spoke, Brittany's pocket buzzed. She pulled out her phone and read the text. There were so many long words in it, so she assumed it was Rachel. Though it was kind of confusing, she got what Rachel was trying to say.

"Rachel says Puck isn't coming. He's hunting coyotes."

Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. She stared right back. Rachel always told her to not tell people about hunting. Personally, she didn't get why she needed to keep it a secret. Telling the truth worked just fine. Or twisting just a little. It wasn't like her friends needed to know that coyotes were like chupacabras.

"_O_-kay..."

The chatting resumed. There were several different conversations going on at once. It was a little confusing, so Brittany opted to just sip on her hot chocolate and listen to the one going on closest to her.

"You never told me why you dislike this Jesse so much," the boy with slicked back hair sitting beside Kurt said. His name was Blaine, or Blaise if Brittany remembered right, and he'd been Kurt's boyfriend for a while now. Actually, now that she thought about it, she might've been there when Rachel introduced them, "I thought your glee club needed more members. Shouldn't you be glad for the addition?"

"Well, at first we were ecstatic about having another talented and well rounded member like Rachel. We didn't find out until recently that he was a transfer student from Carmel High." Kurt gave him a meaningful look.

Blaine/Blaise's eyebrows shot up.

"Wait, are you telling me your Jesse is Jesse St. James, as in lead male vocalist of Vocal Adrenaline?"

"Yup," Kurt replied, popping his "p".

"You guys do know about Vocal Adrenaline's reputation right? What they like to do to demoralize their competition?"

"We've heard. That's what has us so worried," Mercedes said from where she was seated to his left, "Since he showed up, he's been paying Rachel a whole bunch of attention."

"No," Blaine said, concern seeping into his voice, "You don't think...?"

"Jesse's like the male equivalent of Rachel," Artie explained.

"And he's really charming," Tina added, touching a finger to her chin. Artie shot her a look so she was quick to add, "But kind of smarmy."

"She won't even listen to reason or take our concern seriously. She and Sam are convinced that we should give him a chance." Kurt scoffed frustrated. "Basically, we think that he's a spy that's been sent to McKinley to seduce Rachel and steal our set list. Whatever he has planned next, well, it can't bode well for Rachel."

Kurt's words hung ominously amongst the other glee members. Everyone else had stopped talking to listen to what Kurt and Blaine had been talking about. Now they were all commiserating on how much they distrusted Jesse and worried about what he was planning. The most vicious in their attitudes towards Jesse were surprisingly Quinn and (though she pretended not to care) Santana. Finn had been expected to be the most outspoken, but he seemed a little more subdued than usual.

Brittany was frowning, but for different reasons. She really didn't believe Jesse was as bad a person as everyone else insisted he must be. At first she'd thought maybe he was Mr. Shue's long lost son (they dressed way too much alike for her to not consider it). After that theory had been dismissed, Brittany had decided she didn't really care much either way what Jesse was doing at McKinley. He was always really nice to her, and he knew a lot about theater stuff like Rachel did, and he was really smart like Sam. As far as she was concerned, if Sam and Rachel liked him, she liked him too. Brittany had learned a long time ago to trust in them as good judges of character.

And also, he was the first person to ever bow to Lord Tubbington when she introduced them. Anyone who acknowledged Lord Tubbington's fuzzy magnificence had to be a good person.

* * *

The soft artificial light flickered and played across the darkened walls of the living room. The sound of the powerful singing voices of the cast of _Rent _being played on the TV screen filled the space. Rachel sat on one end of the couch, a large portion of her attention fixed on the movie, the rest in lavishing gentle ministrations upon the head resting in her lap. Jesse smiled at her with unholy amusement, not even pretending to watch the TV.

A snore drifted through the air.

Sam fussily rolled over, unconsciously nuzzling Rachel's thigh and hooking a foot around Jesse's waist. He'd lost the battle to stay awake during the two theater enthusiast's musical marathon an hour ago. They'd all been watching _Funny Girl _together. When Jesse had gotten up to go get them some popcorn, he'd come back to find Sam passed out and draped over Rachel's much smaller form. The two of them had mercifully rearranged the larger male's enormous frame so that Sam's head was more comfortably pillowed on Rachel's lap and his long legs laid across Jesse's lap. The giant hadn't even stirred during any of it.

Deciding to take advantage of the moment, Jesse pulled out his cell phone and started snapping shots of the scene like an over excited photographer. Rachel rolled her eyes at him.

"I advise you to delete those Jesse."

"Why? This is great stuff. He isn't even drunk," Jesse crowed, "Maybe I should draw a mustache on him too?"

"He'll get you back for it."

A look of boredom crossed Jesse's features.

"_Please_. Samuel doesn't scare me."

"He's told me about some of the prank wars he's waged with his older brother." She shivered. "You'd be lucky to come out of this with any of your hair intact."

Jesse froze.

If ever there was a threat to be taken seriously by one Jesse St. James, it would be a threat to his hair. Only a threat to his painstakingly coiffed waves would have him trembling in his stylish vest ensemble. Where Rachel had learned to not put much concern into how her hair looked (slushie facials made excessive styling pointless), Jesse primped and fluffed his hair every morning like a girl preparing for her prom night. Slowly, he lowered his phone and pocketed it.

"I... I'm not going to delete them," he stated with a show of defiance that thinly veiled his terror, "I'll just... keep them to myself." He cleared his throat. "Yeah. That's what I'll do. For my own amusement. And no one has to know besides you and me." He looked at her sharply. "Don't tell him anything."

"Only as long as I get one copy."

"Blackmailer!" Jesse cried with mock disgust before smiling conspiratorially, "Deal."

After playfully shaking on it, they lapsed into companionable silence, enjoying the rest of_ Rent_, even if the occasional snore would ruin the moment like it had in the middle of "_Goodbye Love_". Rachel preferred watching the live Broadway recording to watching the movie adaptation. She liked the movie well enough, but nothing was ever as good as the stage to her, something Kurt, Mercedes, Blaine and Jesse agreed with her on. She also liked this particular recording because she got a kick out of how much the Squeegee man looked like Wes, a friend of Blaine's that he'd introduced her to once. As the movie drew to a close, Jesse sat up and started to stretch in place in preparation to stand. Once he was on his feet, he flicked on the lights, pulling the room out of darkness. Rachel had to blink once or twice to adjust from dark to bright. Lying beside her, Sam rolled so he was face down in her lap, groaning at the light.

"Are you going home?" Rachel asked Jesse when she noticed him pulling his peacoat off the coat rack and beginning to pull it on.

"Yeah," he replied, "It's pretty late and I've already gone past curfew."

"Oh. Okay."

"There's..." his unsure pause drew her attention to him. He stood at the door with his hand on the knob, "I know that the rest of the club thinks I shouldn't be trusted because I'm just a spy. And they're right, I am a spy. But I don't like what I'm doing. It's not just spying. And it's more dishonest than if I was just spying on you for a glee competition. This isn't an acting exercise anymore. It's lying and being used as means to an end. That's why I should tell you..."

"Tell me what?"

There was a look in his eyes. He was afraid to tell her. Whatever it was, it was a big secret.

"I know who your mother is."

"What?" Rachel demanded, unable to maintain the low speaking volume she'd been using so as not to wake Sam, "How... How do you know who my mother is? I don't even know who she is..."

"Her name is Shelby Corcoran," Jesse answered, "And she's the coach for Vocal Adrenaline."

Rachel's mouth went dry and her heart pounded. Bits of information filtered into her mind. A name. A short biography. A list of accomplishments. A profile picture on a Carmel High staff page that was obviously taken by a professional. She'd looked it all up after sectionals to get a feel for the competition. And now, spearheading the competition was none other than...

"This is a joke right?" Rachel asked, afraid, "You're just, joking. This is a really mean joke Jesse..."

(Her lip wobbled and he felt like an asshole.)

Either way he answered, it would be devastating. Was the carrot being held out in front of her face really to be eaten or snatched back the minute she reached for it? Hope for a mother she'd never known and always wanted to fill the hole of home cooked meals, patches on torn clothing and the birds and the bees done the right way. Reality checks rained down in lies, you're being taken advantage of, just another cruel joke to play on poor little she-had-it-coming Rachel Berry.

Unconsciously, she clutched Sam closer to her. Contact gave her an anchor, kept her calm in only a way Sam could give her even if he wasn't awake to give it willingly.

"I promise Rachel, it's not a joke." He was quiet, regretful and begging for forgiveness. "She wanted to send one of us here to befriend you in order to arrange a meeting between you two without you realizing it. I took it up because she promised me any recommendations I wanted to get into college. I tried to make this fun by treating this like an acting exercise." The boy looked down. "But it's not fun. I hate feeling awful. I love hanging out with you and Sam. I felt like I'm really a part of something when I spend time with you guys. I didn't want either of you hurt by any of this. Especially you Rachel."

"Well it's too late for that," Rachel snapped, staring at a spot on the wall so she didn't have to look at his face, at his eyes, "I don't like being played with. And I don't like my friendship being treated like common street trash."

"You don't understand," Jesse started.

"No I don't Jesse," Rachel said cutting him off, "Because I'm not the type of person who uses friendship to mess around with people. I become friends with people because I genuinely like someone and I want them to genuinely like me back."

"But I do like you Rachel..."

"And I like you Jesse." Her voice was mournful. "But I can't trust you. I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt because you were honest about the spying from the start. But keeping my mother's identity from me, and worse, using me as a bargaining chip to get into college?" Her voice became steely. "That's been done to me once before and I'd be a fool if I let anyone jerk me around like that again. You should just leave. I can't look at you right now."

"I..." He stopped. "I know you don't trust me, and you have no reason to believe anything I say. But I really am sorry. I'm going to earn your trust back some day. And when that happens, we'll be friends again."

The sound of the door opening and closing signaled his retreat from her house.

"Don't you think you were a little harsh on him?"

She jumped. Looking down, she saw Sam awake and staring up at her with concern in his eyes.

"You were awake? You heard all of that?"

She was a little upset that there had been an audience to what just transgressed between her and Jesse. Though, she supposed, if it had to be anyone, at least it was Sam. He was at least somewhat involved in all of this too.

"Yeah. Are you alright?"

"No," she answered, "I can't believe it. I can't believe him."

"At least he tried to come clean to you."

"Are you taking his side?" she asked, upset and not understanding how her best friend could be making excuses for Jesse, "He lied to me!"

"No," he told her, "Plain and simple, what Jesse was doing was dishonest and not fair to you. I'm not telling you to just trust him blindly Rachel. There's this old saying, trust but verify. See if there's anything true to what Jesse said. Have your dads tell you whether or not this woman Shelby Corcoran is really who you're looking for. If he's at least right about that, maybe then you should give him a chance."

"Okay," she agreed, the word drawn out with her exhaustion and reluctance.

Sam sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late, but I need to get back to the motel. Dad's 'home' and he freaks worse than Dean when I'm out late."

"It's no problem," Rachel said standing and smoothing out her clothes robotically, "A drive might help me take my mind off things for awhile."

She didn't have to see his face to know he was watching her. That he was worried.

* * *

"I'm leaving."

Sam looked up from the assignment they were working on. Jesse's eyes were still glued to his own paper.

"What do you mean, leaving?" Sam asked suspiciously.

This had been the first time Sam had seen Jesse since the night before. Since he'd departed after the confrontation that had left Rachel emotionally off kilter the entire drive over to the motel. The other brunet had been withdrawn and had not engaged Sam at all during the time they had before class had begun.

"I'm going back to Carmel High."

"What?" Sam demanded.

"As if you don't already know why Sam." Jesse refused to meet his gaze.

"I know what you guys talked about last night, yeah. But why are you leaving?"

"Ms. Corcoran's making me come back," Jesse answered with a wince, "She's gotten impatient with my progress on Rachel."

"So that's it then? You're just leaving?"

"I have to."

"No you don't," Sam argued.

"Shut up."

"This isn't the way you go about winning back her trust."

"Shut up.

"You're just running away," Sam said heatedly, "You could stay. For her. For us. You're my friend too."

"Just shut up Sam." He glared angrily at him. "I don't have to explain myself to you." He looked at Sam one last time. "Bye."

He stood suddenly and started shoving things into his bag. Against the teachers protests, he marched out of the classroom, Sam watching as he went.

* * *

His phone began to vibrate. It was passing period, so he could stop to take the call as long as none of the teachers caught him. He went to check it and sighed when he saw the called ID, hitting the answer button and putting it to his ear.

"Jesse."

"Sam."

"Why are you calling me during school?" he asked exasperatedly.

"I know it's a bad time but I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important."

"All right. So tell me what's so important."

"Don't let Rachel go out to the school parking lot after class today."

"What? Why?"

"Someone took my phone and sent her a text on it telling her to meet me in the parking lot. Even if she probably wouldn't... If she does, you can't let her go. There's an ambush waiting for her." A dry swallow. "They're planning to egg her."

Sam's teeth ground against each other harshly. He knew exactly what something like that would do to someone like Rachel, who was religiously vegan.

"Bastards..."

"Don't let her go."

"I won't."

The phone call ended without any warning or goodbyes. He sighed again and before putting his phone away and heading to his next class.

* * *

Shelby Corcoran watched her students perform with growing ire. She knew she was being hard on them. However they did deserve the treatment a little, considering how poorly their rehearsals had been going lately. Since he'd come back, Jesse's performance had been lackluster. Not that most of her kids ever put much heart into the routines before, but up on stage, he was dead on his feet as he just barely put himself through the motions. What was worse was that the rest of the kids could feel it too. Jesse was the pivotal cog of the Vocal Adrenaline machine. If something happened to him, it affected the rest of the team's dynamics.

Unfortunately, Shelby couldn't bring herself to care about what was wrong with the boy.

It was unprofessional to let her feelings get the best of her, but she was unhappy with Jesse. She liked him so much before. He was her star. She saw him like he was the son she'd never had. But some things trumped that kind of affection. Like the love a mother had for the daughter she never got to hold, to raise, that she regretted ever letting go of. It was selfish of her, and unfair to Jesse, but she needed her daughter. Now more than ever. But Jesse had failed. It was too close to regionals. The team need him back.

And now she'd have to wait another two years. It was a miserable thing she'd have to learn to accept.

Putting the entire team, especially Jesse, through the paces made her feel better by a fraction. It gave her sick pleasure to make sure her displeasure known with the physically punishing workout she was making Jesse and the rest of the team do. Exhaustion was starting to show in their increasingly sloppy choreography execution.

Barking another criticism once they'd finished the number, she ordered the kids to start over. Exhausted bodies dragged themselves back into position, resentment in their eyes all directed at her. She ignored it. As they begun, she paid them half of her attention and the other to her laptop. Opening her email, she checked for anything new. There was some spam, a coupon for a dinner for two at Breadstix for the price of one, and another request for her to report back the club's budget summary from the principal. She rolled her eyes continuously as she skimmed it. Only half way through, another email popped up. With a gasp, she read the name of the sender.

**Rachel Berry.**

Shakily, she moved the cursor over it and opened the message.

**Subject: (no subject)**

_Dear Ms. Shelby Corcoran,_

_I have recently been informed that you are in fact my biological mother. After confirming this fact, I decided to make contact with you. I know that you would like to meet me, but I believe that to be an unwise course of action at this juncture.__  
_  
It felt as if her heart was being crushed but she continued reading.

_Do not misunderstand me. I do wish to meet you some day._

And suddenly it was as if her heart was restored to perfect health and beating rapidly once again with hope.

_I am sure you are aware of the fact that you coach the glee club that will be in opposition to my own at Regionals. I feel that while we are still each other's competition, that fact will cast a shadow over the beginning of our relationship. Once a victor has been chosen at regionals, I will meet you. Until then, I hope you will be satisfied with emails._

_Thank you for your time,_

_Rachel Berry_

The tone of the message was incredibly formal, and she'd still have to wait, but Rachel had agreed to meet with her. Better yet, she'd offered to open channels through email. Though she was impatient to see Rachel as soon as possible, this was so much better than two years. Frantically, she hit the reply button and started typing.

**To: Rachel Berry****  
****Subject: Re: (no subject)**

_Dear Rachel,_

_Thank you, you don't know how much this means to me._

_Please, tell me everything about you. Anything. Your favorite color, your favorite food, your favorite song. What classes are you taking? Who is your best friend? Do you like anyone? Are you being safe? Are you reading any interesting books? What..._

* * *

"Hello Matthew. Michael."

Matt blinked and then looked up at the only person who'd address him by that name who was currently at Regionals with him. He smiled, somewhat nervously, at Rachel.

"Hey Rach, what's up?"

"You two seemed a little quiet over here, so I wanted to check in with you."

It wasn't that surprising that they were the quietest of the room. It was always him and Mike, kind of separate from the others, their own little unit. Except, it wasn't really just them anymore, was it? Their world had kind of expanded when they'd hit high school, started playing football. But their unit had never been broken into until now. This glee club had drawn them in out of their self isolation, pulled them out of themselves, and forcefully battered through the walls of silence they put up. Kind of made sense when you thought about it, since Rachel Berry, the loudest and most determined girl he'd ever known led the charge. Mike had gone down first and it wasn't long before Matt followed suit. They were full on gleeks, who made friends with the people of the sub-basement and danced and sang in public as if it wasn't the most reputation damaging activity to take part in.

And they loved it.

Which was why the thought of placing any lower than runner-up at Regionals was a terrifying one. You couldn't change someone like that and then expect to them to go back to things the way they were before like nothing happened. You couldn't take glee away from the club when it had practically become who they were. That was why the two of them had retreated for a moment, to think about everything they could lose. This kind of anxiety was worse than anything he'd ever felt before a football game. They always knew they were going to lose because they were McKinley High. Nothing was riding on them playing the game. Everything was riding on this moment because New Directions would get cut if they didn't place. They had to place. They had to.

But what if he screwed up? Fumble a ball. Miss a step. Let the opposing offense through. Not hit the right note.

"It's gonna be okay, you know?" Rachel's voice cut across his panicked thoughts.

"How do you know?" he asked.

At his side, Mike leaned in closer to hear what her response.

"Because we're amazing," Rachel said softly, reaching out to take their hands with her own, "All of us together? We're amazing. If you can't believe in yourself, believe in all of us. Believe in each other. Believe in Mr. Shue. Believe in me."

And if there was anyone Matt could believe in, it was Rachel Berry. And Mike. And as he looked past them, at the others, he realized he could believe in them too.

He could believe in Puck, and Mercedes, and Santana, and Artie. In Tina, and Brittany, and Kurt, and Quinn and Finn. In Mr. Shue. Even in Sam Winchester, Rachel's strange childhood friend who was a part of their glee family even if he didn't sing or dance. Even he was here with them now, talking to Artie and Puck, reassuring them a lot like how Rachel was there for him and Mike. All of these people were worth believing in. So he was going to believe. His grasp on Rachel's tiny hand tightened. He looked at Mike and they shared a nod.

They believed.

* * *

"You ready?" Finn asked her, placing a hand on her arm.

It was so weird to be standing here with him after everything they'd been through together. At this moment in time.

"Yes."

He took one of her hands in his own.

"I'm sorry, you know. For everything."

"It's okay," she said smiling at him, "I forgave you a long time ago."

"We're never going to get back together, are we?"

She shook her head sadly. He sighed, and then spoke up, his voice stronger than he expected it to be.

"For what it's worth, I want you to know I love you."

Beckoning him closer, she stood on her tippy toes, and gave him a short, sweet kiss. She rocked back onto her heels, quickly and effectively ending it. Neither of them needed to speak to know what this kiss really meant.

"Thank you for loving me."

"We better get out there," Finn said backing up to his door.

She nodded. It seemed too soon when the cue was given for them begin. Finn went out first, giving her a brave, lopsided smile. That left her alone for fifteen nerve-wracking seconds. Once they'd counted down, it was her turn to go. She took her first step out into the auditorium, glaring lights shining in her eyes almost blinded her.

She took another step. Then another. Locked eyes with Finn. And then she sang.

"_Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight..._"

She closed her eyes.

"_Sending all my love, along the wire..._"

She opened them again.

Somehow, it was Sam staring back at her. The minute she'd opened her eyes again, hers had found his. He looked so proud as he mouthed the words back to her. Of course he'd know this song.

Singing this to him felt right.

"_I'm still yours... Faithfully..._"

* * *

AN(1): This chapter. This chapter. This chapter was a mother _beeping_ **beep** to write. I wrote four different drafts. Cut them up spliced them. Burned them. Screamed in a pillow. Dreamed up new scenarios. Ate them. Partially digested them, then threw it up as a completed installment. And then it took me a butt load of time to find a fitting song for it. I am mentally exhausted over this. But I feel like it's good. Next chapter is the last in the McKinley part. I can't wait. I like seeing them in high school, but the story is going in big directions the minute it's over.

Ooh, but I would like to ask for some of your opinions. I tried writing this chapter differently from the past ones. Tell me what you liked best about this one.

Things to look forward to in the next chapter: Shelby, Prom, Reconciliation, Winchester Show Down, Graduation

AN(2): I came back to edit this chapter, as well as others. Some of the major changes are that I've added are expanding existing scenes and in the case of the Rachel comforting Brittany scene, it was completely thrown out and swapped for a Rachel comforts Matt and Mike from Matt's POV. I realized that I spent a lot of time on certain characters but didn't give any time to any others. This is a shameful thing to have done when you think about characters like Artie and especially Matt, who get practically little (or none anymore in Matt's case) during the show. They're important too. So I've just been trying to pull everyone to the forward now. Hope no one minds and better yet, likes the changes made.

* * *

Last Edited: 4-14-12


	10. Pt II: Breathe Again

Breathe Again

_Car is parked, bags are packed,_  
_But what kind of heart doesn't look back,_  
_At the comfortable glow from the porch,_  
_The one I will still call yours _

Sara Bareilles

* * *

The doorbell rang.

"About damn time," she heard a muffled voice come from the other side of the door, "Someone's finally showed up."

The door was hastily pulled open and a very nicely dressed, dark haired man stood there. She blushed a little at the charming, attractive smile he shot her.

"Hey there," he said, "Are you the babysitter Shelby hired?"

"Umm..." was all Rachel could say.

Deciding to take her silence for a yes, he beckoned her into the house. It was with hesitant steps she complied. Her eyes darted all around the house, taking it in. This was the first time she'd been to Shelby's- her mother's, she corrected herself- house. After the regionals competition's conclusion, with Vocal Adrenaline in first and New Directions as runners up (she'd been mildly disappointed, but thankful that they'd at least placed), mother and daughter had immediately gone through with their plan to finally meet. They'd been so impatient, they'd agreed to meet for coffee at five in the morning the next day. Even if they'd been dead tired, dressed in unglamorous sweats, and jittery from the coffee only just keeping them awake, talking to Shelby, mom, in person was better than anything else.

She'd been terrified that after all of the amazing online conversations they'd had, they'd become like all those other people who had nothing to say once they were face to face. It was a relief that after only slight awkwardness in beginning, they'd eventually eased into regular conversing. They'd parted reluctantly, but planned to have many more meetings for the future. For the last month now, when she wasn't hanging out with glee members and Sam, she was out with her mom doing mother-daughter things. Their relationship wasn't conventional in any sense, and she was too old to be her mom's little girl, but she had her mom, and she could spend time with her.

Not everyone could say they had that much.

Just recently, Beth had been added to their new, strange family unit. Shelby had made the decision to adopt her after Rachel told her about Quinn putting her baby up for adoption. Rachel was still getting used to the fact the baby was the biological daughter of both Quinn and Puck. She hadn't informed either of them of the fact that she babysat their daughter a couple times a week. One could only imagine how awkward that conversation would be.

"Well, she is the babysitter, sort of," Shelby said, sidling up beside the man, "This is the where I give the introductions."

"Introductions?" There was puzzlement in his voice.

"Jimi, this is Rachel, my daughter."

"You have another daughter?" the man, Jimi, as her mom had called him, asked in surprise. His eyes swiveled over to her.

"Yes," Shelby answered, glancing at Rachel momentarily before looking back to him, nervous, "Beth is adopted. Rachel is my biological daughter. She lives with her fathers."

"Hmm." Jimi looked her over. Just the sight of his face, Rachel could see the mental cogs hard at work processing the information. She tensed, wondering if there was anything in her mother's confession that Jimi would react poorly to. "I can see now that she's yours. She's pretty, just like you."

As one, Rachel and Shelby swooned a little. He was _smooth_. Flushing, the girl thanked him bashfully for the compliment. Rachel allowed her hackles to settle. She'd been ready to tear into the man if he had started judging her mom for having a teenage daughter, or an adopted daughter, and especially if he judged her fathers.

"Anyways, Rachel's here to watch Beth while we're out."

"So you're here helping out by looking after your little sister?"

"Yes sir," she responded politely with a nod.

"On a Friday night?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised, "Shouldn't you be out with a boy on a night like this?"

"I don't mind. I'm uh, not currently seeing anyone romantically right now anyway," Rachel admitted, her fingers playing with a piece of her hair, "I don't know if mom's told you," she noticed flash of joy on her mom's face when she called her mom, "But due to certain circumstances, we weren't able to meet until recently. I've missed out for the last sixteen years of my life. Any chance to spend time with her or Beth is important because we're family. Even if we're not related by blood, Beth is my sister and I'll take care of her."

Jimi, while initially taken aback by her startlingly honest and open answer, seemed to appraise her for it.

"Well, then I think you're a good kid," he said finally, "I have kids like your mom does. Two boys. You kind of remind me of my oldest, always watching out for his little brother. Taking care of him."

"I think we've got to get going Jimi," Shelby said, smiling fondly and tapping her wrist. She looked over to Rachel, "Beth's napping in her crib right now, but she'll probably wake up at some point soon. I fed her not to long ago, but she'll be hungry in a couple of hours. You know where I keep the bottles." She stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Rachel's cheek. "Thank you again for doing this baby. I'll be back at eleven."

"All right, now get going." She turned Shelby to face Jimi and lightly pushed her in his direction. "It was nice meeting you Jimi. Make sure my mom has a good time!"

"Nice to meet you too. Take care of your sister." The man gave her nod and a little salute as he offered his arm to her mom. "Let's go."

Then, they were out the door. There was a roar of an engine coming to life in the driveway that soon settled into a rumble that faded as it drove away to destinations Rachel didn't know, but would probably be getting details about later. That left her alone in her mom's house with her adopted sister. She went to go check on Beth and wasn't surprised to see the baby's eyes open and staring up at her.

"Hi sweetie," she cooed, coming over to lean on the railing of the crib and dangling an arm into it. Beth's fingers settled onto her single one, not quite grasping, but touching it, "How are you today?"

The baby didn't respond, just fussed a little. She lit up at the movement nonetheless.

"That bad? How about I sing you? I think you'll enjoy it. I know for a fact that my voice is spectacular."

Beth wiggled her arm a little.

"All right. Since you insisted...

"_Come stop your crying, it will be alright, just take my hand, hold it tight..._"

Happily, she watched as Beth's eyes eventually fluttered shut.

* * *

The sounds of pencils scratching against paper filled the room as students took down the homework assignment that had been put on the board. Those who finished writing fastest were able to pack away their belonging sooner and shuffle out of the room to their next class. Some took their time doing so, waiting on others so they could walk together to their next class. Sam was done fairly quickly and was ready to get out of there was suddenly waylaid by a perky brunette wearing light pink just as he cleared the doorway. Her name was Rachel, and the only reason he remembered that was because it was the same as his best friend's name.

"Hi Sam!" she greeted, her smile all dimples and teeth. "I'm Rachel Szymanski. From your Calc class. Are you planning on going to the senior prom?"

He blinked. Prom?

"I can judge from your expression you haven't. Well, I know we haven't talked much this year, but I've seen you around and well, I think you're kind of cute and I'd love it if maybe you could go with me. Please?"

He blinked again. She was right about one thing, he really hadn't thought at all about prom, which was why her asking him to accompany her really blindsided him. And wow. She was asking him to go with her? Sam was used to having to ask girls out or have Dean set him up with dates, which was especially humiliating. The only other time he'd been asked out (well not ask out so much as propositioned) by a girl was by Santana. It had been awkward, strangely flattering, but awkward, so he'd said no. Maybe it was just a McKinley High thing for girls to ask guys? Back to the situation at hand. This girl was asking him out. And she was pretty cute. But another thing she was right about was that he didn't remember talking much to her ever. Beyond thinking she was cute, he had no desire to go to prom with her.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to sound sincerely sorry, "I'm flattered that you thought of me, but I'm actually going with someone else."

Her expression blanked for a second, and he was afraid she was going to get upset with him, but she quickly pasted a smile on.

"Oh." She sounded disheartened. "Really? That's too bad. Who is she?"

Shit. He'd wanted to let her down easy by saying he already had a date. He hadn't expected her to call him on his bluff.

"Just a friend. I wanted to spend the night with someone I could really talk to you know?"

"Yes. I suppose I understand. You don't mean that little sophmore, Berry, do you? I've seen you two together a lot."

His jaw tightened.

"That's exactly who I meant. Why? Do you have a problem with her?"

The other Rachel's eyes went wide at his strained tone.

"Oh no, not at all! She's a very close friend of yours isn't she? She must be a great girl if you like her so much."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, relaxing, "Yeah, she is."

"Well, it's a shame you're already taken. I guess I'll see you later Sam."

She shot him a winning smile and flounced off. Sam stayed rooted to the spot trying figure out what had just happened. He didn't snap out of it until he felt a tug on his arm. For a moment, he was confused when he didn't see anyone, but when he heard a throat clear, he blushed and looked down.

"Looked like you were far away there Winchester," Artie remarked with a quirk of his lips, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam replied.

"Did it have to do with that cute girl you were talking to?"

"Yeah. She asked me to prom."

Artie whistled.

"Nice. So you're going with her to prom?"

"No," Sam answered, "I told her I was going with Rachel."

"Really?" Artie's eyebrows went so high, they cleared his glasses rims. "The girls will be happy to hear about that. They were really unhappy when they realized the two of you really weren't dating. So are you guys finally official now?"

"No. Still just friends. I haven't actually asked Rachel. I just told the other girl I was going with her to let her down easy."

The boy in the wheelchair shook his head.

"Maybe you should ask her out." For the umpteenth time, Sam blinked. Artie regarded him patiently. "You should ask Rachel out to prom. She'd love the opportunity to dress up and I'm sure she wouldn't say no to spending time with you. And you could do a lot worse than your best friend."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Just a suggestion bro," Artie said patting his arm, "And if for some strange reason you do ask Rachel and she doesn't say yes and you still need a fake date, I'm sure Mercedes or Tina wouldn't mind either."

With that, he wheeled off to wherever he needed to be. Sam shook his head and followed suit, his thoughts full of prom and both Rachels.

* * *

"Hey, you free this Saturday?"

"Yes. Would you like to come over and spend the day at my house Sam?" Rachel asked without really paying attention.

"Actually, I had something else in mind."

"Oh?"

"Wanna go to prom with me?"

"That sounds fine."

A second after the words slipped out of her mouth, she realized what she'd just agreed to. Her eyes wide, she gave Sam an incredulous stare.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"You just asked me to prom."

"Yeah," he replied, looking like for all the world that he didn't understand why she was suddenly freaking out, "I asked you to go to prom with me and you said yes."

"Sam," she said, her inflection getting pitchy with panic, "You asked me to prom."

"Are you changing your mind?" he asked, confused.

"You caught me off guard! I didn't even realize what you were asking me!" Her breath was coming in shallow bursts. She tried really hard to calm down, but she couldn't. This was Sam, her best friend. This shouldn't be so weird. Except it was. "Why me? Isn't there some girl in one of your classes you've been secretly watching and intend to ask out?"

While this was a valid question, it was pointless because Rachel already knew Sam wasn't interested in anyone. She would've known before he did if he had a crush on some girl. Even in the past when they'd just been talking over the phone, Rachel had could tell when he was preoccupied and when it was a girl who was keeping him that way.

She hated the internal relief she had in knowing there was no girl.

"Why not you Rachel?" Sam asked her, "I honestly don't know any of the girls in my classes very well. And even if I did, I don't think I'd enjoy myself even half as much as I would if I went with you. So please, go with me? I already bought the tickets. I'd hate for them to go to waste."

There Sam went, saying things that made her ridiculously emotional. She wanted to tell him she couldn't go with him. That she had no business going to prom with him. At the same time, deep down, she couldn't help the joy she felt that out of all of the people Sam could have picked from- and seriously, Sam could have anyone he wanted if he put even the slightest effort into it- he picked her. The only person she'd ever imagined attending prom with was Finn, while they'd been together. She didn't even know when her feelings had begun shifting towards her best friend, but the minute she realized it, everything had become more awkward around him. Things Puck or Finn did when flirting with her seemed to pale in comparison to the simplest touches and words from Sam. How had she ever kept her heartbeat steady around him before? Staying calm around him now was impossible.

It wouldn't be long until he had her figured out, and when he did, she'd ruin the most important relationship she had in her entire life.

"Sure Sam," she finally told him, "Wouldn't want those tickets to go to waste at all."

She was such a goner.

* * *

"You better take as many pictures as you can!" Mercedes demanded.

"Seriously!" Tina exclaimed, hanging off her arm excitedly, "We need to be able to live the experience vicariously through you!"

"Can you ask Sam to let me touch his car?"

Everyone paused to look at Blaine, who was unrepentantly staring Rachel down with pleading eyes. Kurt rolled his eyes fondly with a sigh.

"Don't mind him. Blaine _really _likes his classic cars."

"It's not just a car!" Blaine went over to the window, placing his hand on it and staring out into the driveway longingly, "It's a '67 Chevy Impala," he whispered reverently, stroking the window, "She's gorgeous."

Kurt's eye twitched. Rachel giggled as she tugged her older male friend away from the window.

"Come now Blaine, curb your enthusiasm. You're making your boyfriend jealous of the Impala."

Hooking one of her arms through his and looping another through Kurt's, she pulled them both towards the door. They'd all come to prepare her for the big night. Brittany would've come, but she and Santana had been invited by upperclassmen as well, and Santana refused to come join them for pre-prom prep. Brittany didn't want to leave Santana to get ready on her own, so she left Rachel to Kurt and Mercedes knowing they would take care of her.

Mercedes had outdone herself with the dress choice. Both she and Kurt had flat out rejected anything skanky. In Kurt's words, "it's just not your look, honey." So they'd found something that fit her look, short, sweet, almost innocent, but elegant. She let the tips of her fingers brush along the soft white material, marveling at how it seemed to float around her. Kurt had finished the ensemble off with some light make up and a simple up do.

"The look on Winchester's face is going to be priceless," Mercedes cackled to Tina as she linked arms with the Asian girl. The two trailed after the Rachel sandwich, sharing secret smiles.

Rachel blushed, realizing that the big staircase moment was coming. Where she, the ethereal beauty, was supposed to descend the steps as if she were floating down to where her dashing date awaited her after being grilled by her over protective fathers.

Of course, because she was Rachel Berry, nothing went as it was supposed to.

Blaine and Kurt, after silently conspiring with each other via their eyes over Rachel's head, on the count of three lifted her off her feet and carried her down the steps whilst she screamed at the surprise. When the world stopped moving and came back into focus, she still wasn't on her feet. In fact, she'd been deposited into the arms of one Sam Winchester, who was looking down at her a little confused but smiling nonetheless. She blushed again and looked away.

Her friends and fathers were cheering and cooing about how adorable they looked together. Her daddy Hiram, of course, had been there whole time video taping the entire thing. It seemed her humiliation would be preserved for posterity's sake.

"Oh, don't give us that look sweetheart!" her shorter doctor dad, Leroy, laughed.

Her glare only intensified as Sam mercifully set her onto her feet.

"Hey," she heard him say to get her attention, "You look really beautiful Rachel."

Only his arm around her shoulder stopped her from swaying woozily and falling into a dead faint. Her head felt so light, it was like she could float away. Even when she'd been dating Finn, he'd never told her she was beautiful. Maybe once he'd told her she was pretty, but at the time, it had sounded insincere to her ears. Rachel knew she didn't look awful, but when your only admirers were the school pervert and the guy who chased anything with legs _and_ you got slushied by everyone else, your ego had to take a hit, or two, or twenty.

It took her three minutes to compose herself and thank him for the wonderful compliment.

Just before they got to the door (the others were lurking on the periphery, trying to maintain distance but not miss anything), Sam stopped both of them and reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out. Rachel couldn't stop her gasp when she saw it. It was a corsage, a very beautiful corsage. There was a single white flower, wreathed in baby's breath. Gently, Sam took her left wrist and slipped it on.

"I didn't really know what to get," he told her, "So I asked Kurt."

"I love it," she breathed out.

"Good." He held his elbow out to her. "Time to go?"

Glancing over her shoulder for a moment, she looked back to him and nodded, taking his arm. Rachel waved to her fathers and her friends and soon, they were out the door. The minute it closed behind them, all of the teenagers rushed to the window to watch them go, Hiram and Leroy following a couple steps behind.

"Did you see her corsage?" Leroy asked Hiram quietly.

"Yes. Gardenia and baby's breath." Hiram eyed Kurt. "I wonder if he knew."

"Probably. Who knows?" Leroy laughed. "Regardless, it's fitting. Maybe some day, they'll figure it out."

"Maybe. But eight years is a long time to be clueless."

"I think they'll have the rest of their lives to make up for it."

"You're such a hopeless romantic," Hiram whispered, slipping an arm around Leroy's waist and pulling him closer while the kids weren't watching.

"You love it."

* * *

Music pulsed through the gym, loud and fast paced. Sam kind of recognized the beat as something mainstream but that was as far as his knowledge went. Despite being best friends with the captain of the glee club and self-proclaimed diva, he lacked familiarity with any music outside classic 70s rock, and even then, not by choice. He glanced around, taking in the sight of the other teens at this thing. Many were classmates of his. Some even waved when they saw him. Well, when he was alone.

A frown tugged at his lips. Though the upperclassmen of McKinley were a little more tolerant than her own classmates, he could still see the distaste they had for Rachel on their faces when they saw her on his arm. Most of the people he'd become acquaintances with had grown accustomed to the fact that he was friends with her, but it seemed no matter what he or Rachel did, they'd always look down their noses at her just like when they'd been younger. The only difference was that Sam understood why they did it, but that didn't make him dislike the treatment any less. In fact, it just made him angrier that people could be so shallow and superficial that the minute someone tried to express themselves honestly, even baring the parts others might not like, they were shunned and bullied and put down. It was a wonder that Rachel made it this far and still remained the person he'd been so drawn to back when they were kids.

She had so much opposition to her hopes and dreams, but she fought like a lion to achieve it. He'd watched her take the glee club from its destitute state and turn it into something amazing. Sam wished he could fight for what he wanted in life like she did. Take control of it. He understood he couldn't run away from hunting. It was something too ingrained in his being. But he wanted to find a balance the way Rachel had. She had her dreams and hunting. Couldn't he have that too? Go to college, get a real job, and if he wanted to, hunt on the side?

No, it seemed like too much to ask for. He couldn't imagine leaving his dad or Dean like that.

"Hey, where's Berry?"

Lifting his head, he found the seat across from his occupied by Santana Lopez, one of Rachel's teammates from glee. He kicked himself for not noticing her coming to sit next to him. If it had been his dad catching him unaware like that, he'd have gotten a lecture about not being conscious of his surroundings.

"She needed to go use the bathroom," Sam replied, not knowing what else to say.

Out of the glee kids, Sam knew Santana the least. The first time they'd met, she'd tried to get him to go out with her, and implied doing more than just go out. While he admitted that Santana was one of the prettiest girl's he'd ever met, someone Dean would definitely approve of, he wasn't interested in what she was offering. That and he didn't appreciate the fact that she was one of the people making Rachel's life a living hell. It had apparently hurt her pride to be shot down by some nerd (even if he was a hottie), especially if it was in favor of Rachel "Yentl" Berry. For a long time after that incident, she refused to acknowledge him and if she had to, she only ever referred to him as "Gigantor" and "BFG aka Big Freakin' Geek," as rudely as possible. After sectionals, when she started warming up to Rachel, she stopped being so cold to him, but they never really became all that friendly the way he had with the rest of the club.

That was why it was weird that she'd come up to him now of all times and talk to him.

"So you are here together," the girl said, a wickedly delighted smile touching her lips, "Did you guys finally admit that you want to elope and have babies together once Berry's legal?"

"What?" Sam denied, though it came as more of a squeak, "No! Why did you even think that? We're here as friends."

"What the fuck?" the Latina exclaimed, "You've got to be kidding me. The two of you are still pulling that 'we're just friends' denial bullshit?"

"Because we are," Sam insisted irritably.

"You know what? I's be getting fed up with all this UST you guys have coming off of you 24/7. I'm not like, telling you to go do the nasty right now or something like that, although I know it would do you some good, but for Chrissake, get your shit straight and admit to yourself you're totally into the midget and she totally into you too."

Sam stared at her open mouthed, not sure what to say in response. Was there even a response to everything she'd just dumped on him? It wasn't something he hadn't necessarily heard before; Mercedes and Kurt were determined to get him and Rachel to date. And Puck still didn't believe they weren't together. But to hear it coming from Santana was just... weird.

"You don't believe me?" She was shooting him a glare that seemed to say 'are you stupid or something?' "Then let me lay it all out for you. Unless they're gay, boys do not say no to all of this hot action," she gestured to herself, "Unless they're already digging someone else. And Berry? You don't even need a reason to prove she's in that sickly sweet forever kind of love with you. She fucking wears her heart on her sleeve and it's got property of Sam Winchester tramp stamped all over it. So once again, I tell you, get your shit straight because if you don't, the one who gets hurt is going to be her. And then you'll get hurt because every single member of the glee club will fucking murder you with whatever we can use to take a swing at your abnormally huge body."

If it weren't for the tone in her voice, Sam would have gone with his first instinct to forget she'd ever opened her mouth. Santana seemed so solemn as she stared off somewhere far away. He followed her line of sight and found Brittany at the end of it.

Things suddenly clicked with startling clarity.

Not just that Santana was in her own way coming out to him about being in love with Britney. But that for as well as he could read Rachel after all of these years, he admitted that sometimes signals got confused. Maybe... everyone else wasn't crazy. Sam always thought he was really good at reading other people but he had to admit, he had a blind spot when it came to those he cared about. And when it came down to his own feelings? While he wasn't as closed off as his dad and Dean thanks to Rachel's influence, he wasn't above ignoring the obvious signs.

And now those signs were coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Sam?"

He jumped, startled by the sudden presence at his side. Glancing across the table, he found the seat vacant and Santana nowhere in sight. She must've slipped away while he was having his incredibly inconvenient epiphany. Rachel was staring down at him, amused at the fact she'd caught him off guard (for his second time that night, not that she knew that).

With a low groan that wouldn't be heard over the sound of the music he tried in vain to fight the reaction he was having at seeing her now. Especially with how good she looked tonight. Rachel had always been an unconventional type of pretty. He'd be dumb to have known her for so long and not see it himself. And in that dress, she looked like an angel. His eyes were drawn to a lock of her hair that had managed to escape whatever weird thing Kurt had done with her hair and was just sitting there on her shoulder. He wanted to reach out tuck it behind her ear. It was something he always did thoughtlessly for her, but suddenly, it felt dirty to him. He not only wanted to tuck it back and take advantage of the opportunity to drag his fingertips along her shoulder, across her collar bone. See if the skin was as soft as it looked.

Mentally, he cursed. How was it that one conversation with Santana could turn him into such a frickin' pervert?

"Hey um..." Sam tried to look for a distraction. He looked at the people dancing. "Do you, um, want to," he looked a second time, unable to think of something, "Do you want to dance?" he finally blurted out.

That was not what he had wanted to say. Rachel seemed as stunned as he did that he'd asked. They hadn't planned on really dancing, which Sam had to admit was kind of lame because this was prom. She hadn't minded because she knew how much he didn't like to dance. Now, it was too late to take back the request. She looked so excited, he couldn't take that away from her.

Taking her hand in his own, he led her to the dance floor. Rachel looked about as nervous as he felt. He really didn't know the first thing about dancing and it was obvious in his hesitation. He'd really hate to step on her toes. She was wearing these strappy sandals that would do nothing to protecting them from his huge feet. A slow song started playing and that seemed to coax a tiny smile out of his friend.

"You should hold me."

"Huh?"

"Just put your arms around me, and I'll put mine around you, and we'll just sway. Easy enough, right?"

"I guess," he replied, blushing in embarrassment at how she had to simplify things for him.

"Come here," she directed, hold her arms open to him.

He did as he was told, stepping into her space, and was rewarded with the feel of her arms circling his body. Tentatively, he let his own go around her. After a minute of standing like that, feeling a fraction bolder, he pulled her closer to him. His heart started pumping faster when she gave a content sigh and rested her head on his chest.

"And now let's sway."

As they moved, it felt like the world fell away in a swirl of bright colors and warmth.

* * *

This was starting to get frustrating.

Brittany really didn't like getting lost. It was just so hard to remember how to get places when there were so many places to remember how to get to. She knew how to go home and she knew how to get to school. On good days, she remembered where the mall was or where Cheerio practice was being held. Bathrooms, she never bothered memorizing where they were because she always found them eventually, even if she sometimes ended up in the one for boys, not girls. The problem was that now that she had found the bathroom, she wasn't exactly sure where to go to get back to the dance. Sanny would probably be looking for her, and she'd wanted a chance to find Rachel and Sam so she could dance with them. Dancing was so much fun, and when she danced with her friends, it was even better.

But she didn't know how to get back. And for some reason, she found herself near the football field. It was cold and dark and she didn't like it and she wanted to find Sanny and Rachel and Sam.

A loud noise suddenly grabbed her attention. She could hear something moving around nearby. Afraid, she slipped a hand into her purse where she kept an assortment of things for protection, like pepper spray, that thing that made loud noises when she pressed a button, her knife, her salt shaker, etc. Peeking under the bleachers, she could make out the form of a guy. She watched as he hefted a large bag of something over to a hole and started pouring something white into it. It took her a couple of minutes to figure out that it was salt. Her fear that he might be one of those bad guys her parents and Sanny were always telling her to watch out for started to go away. Anyone who used salt like Rachel, Sam and Puck was definitely not a bad guy.

"Dammit," the man cursed, checking his pockets, "Where the hell did I put those matches?"

"Excuse me?" she said, trying to get her attention, "Excuse me mister?"

The man froze, and turned to face her. He was kind of cute.

"Hi, I'm Brittany!" She said, introducing herself.

"Kid," he started saying, looking panicked, "I don't think you should be here right now."

"Oh, I get it. It's dangerous cause there's a ghost out right?"

"Yeah, I- what?"

"Yeah, McKinley has a whole bunch of ghosts. My friends are always busy trying to get rid of them, and they tell me I can't tell anyone else because they won't believe it." She pouted for a moment before brightening. "But I can tell you 'cause you're a hunter! Only hunters use salt."

"Uh..." was all he could say.

"Here," Brittany said, reaching out into her bag and pulling out her matchbook and holding it out to him. Santana always thought it was weird she had one even though she didn't smoke. The Latina told her she was worried she might be a pyromaniac, whatever that was, "I always have salt and a lighter just incase."

He took it from her, lit one and tossed it into the hole. They stood together in silence watching the flames. Brittany liked it because it was nice and warm.

"How do you know about hunting?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"My best friend Rachel hunts. She saved my life," Brittany replied proudly.

"Huh." He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, um, I've got to be going, so..."

"Do you mind if you walk me back to the school Mister Hunter? I get lost a lot, so if you take me, I won't get lost."

"Oh, uh, sure, no problem."

"Thank you," she told him eagerly, holding her hand out for him to take it.

For the longest time, he stared at it incredulously before he grabbed it in his own calloused one and started leading her back.

* * *

He pushed a piece of paper across the piano to her. Glancing at him, she went to pick it up, curious about what was so special about it.

She hadn't even gotten through more than the first paragraph before she lunged at him, sliding across the piano. Her arms were thrown around his neck as she screamed.

"Stanford! A full scholarship to Stanford! Omigod Sam! Omigod!"

Sam could always count on Rachel to articulate how he should feel about something. As it was, he was still a little numb from the shock and unsure whether to celebrate. Obviously, celebration was the right answer.

"You!" she said, sticking a finger in his face, "Are coming to my house tonight to celebrate with me and my fathers and whoever else I can invite to my house on short notice. We are going to throw you a party. Understand?"

"Completely."

"I'm so utterly proud of you..." she said more quietly, her face falling into his neck.

Blushing, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged back.

Their moment was ruined when wolf whistles sounded off all around them.

"Get a room you too!" Mercedes crowed, and they could hear cackles in stereo.

"Everyone!" Rachel cried, releasing Sam suddenly, completely unaffected by their hyena audience, "Guess who just got accepted to Stanford on a full scholarship?"

Soon, Sam found himself mobbed. He couldn't remember a time he'd ever felt so loved and supported by so many people.

Something Sam had been trying to figure out finally resolved itself right then and there. Thanks to Rachel and all of these people, he knew what his next step was going to be.

* * *

When Sam called her, Rachel had been worried. He the tone in his voice had been dead. She hadn't been able to get much in edgewise. He'd asked if he could stay with her for a while and if she could come pick him up. He refused to explain what was going on, just that he had done something stupid and he needed her to come get him.

As she drove, she tried to think about what was bothering Sam. Most likely, the answer was that he'd had a fight with his father and Dean again. Ever since they went to prom together, something seemed different with Sam. He seemed on edge, and when she asked, he always told her there was something he was trying to figure out. The only time she'd been able to get anything substantial out of him was when he told her that he'd been having issues with his father lately. They'd been fighting more often, and Sam admitted that he'd been instigating them. She knew he hated the way his father controlled his and his brother's lives. And she'd always been there to talk him through the rage he felt after every time his father took something else away from him.

She pulled into the parking lot of the motel the Winchesters were staying, staring at the building apprehensively. Rachel wondered if she should call him to let him know she'd arrived, or go and knock on the door. It reminded her of the last time she'd knocked on a motel room door, and she smiled fondly, it albeit weakly, at the memory.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Sam came storming out of it carrying a large duffel bag. Immediately, she was taking off her seat belt and getting out of the car. As she ran to him, she saw someone else come running out that motel room. Looking a little closer, she realized it was Dean. She barely recognized him, considering it had been a long time ago and how he'd been a teenager then. He was an adult now, and had grown up and filled out, a lot like how Sam had.

"Sam!" she heard Dean call out to his brother, "Sammy, wait up!"

"Just leave me alone Dean," Sam told him, coming to a stop in front of Rachel and refusing to look at the other man.

"I said wait!" Dean yelled, crossing the parking lot in no time. He reached out and yanked Sam around to face him, "Dad didn't mean it Sammy. He's just angry. He gets angry all the time. You should know better."

The desperation in the man's voice made Rachel even more anxious than she already felt.

"What's going on?" she asked timidly.

"Stay out of this," the older brother snapped at her.

Rachel flinched at the vehemence in his voice. Sam, who'd been ignoring him so far, shoved Dean away.

"You don't talk to her that way," he snarled.

"What the hell man!" The shorter man glared at Sam before sneering down at her. "Don't tell me that you're doing all of this just for some freaking girl!"

"Sam?"

"She's not just some girl. And you know that it's been coming down to this. Did you expect me just do this for the rest of my life?"

Dean didn't say anything, but the stubborn set of his jaw and the look in his eyes seemed confirmation enough.

"Well, I'm not!" Sam shouted, "There has to be more to this. This is what Dad wants for me, not what I want. I want to have a life outside of hunting."

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed, shooting a warning glance at Rachel.

"I don't care what anyone says, but I'm going to college at Stanford. I got a full ride and I'm not going to let you or Dad stand in the way. I've worked too hard to just throw away this opportunity."

"So you're just going to be selfish and leave us? Forget about mom?" his older brother demanded.

"Mom is dead!" Dean's entire body went rigid. Rachel felt very afraid when she saw his body language shifting from desperation to violence. She knew Mary Winchester was a sensitive subject for the Winchesters. Especially for the father and oldest son. "And I'm sorry that I'll never get to meet her, but I'm tired of trying to avenge the death of a woman I never knew. This is your and Dad's fight, not mine." His expression grew cold. "Besides, Dad said it himself that if I walked out that door, not to come back."

Rachel gasped. This wasn't just Sam running away from home after a fight with John. He'd been kicked out. To her, the idea of throwing your own child out was deplorable. She'd been raised in a home of full of love and tolerance. Parents weren't supposed to do that to you. Except, in some cases, they did. She'd seen it happen to Quinn after her parents had found out she was pregnant. But this was happening to her Sam. After being the person on the other end of the phone listening to him as he poured out all of the bitterness and unhappiness his father had caused him, Rachel had tried to believe there was good in John Winchester. That he was the way he was because he missed his wife and would give anything to keep his sons safe. The only way she forgave a man she'd never met for stealing Sam's hope was by reminding herself that he did it because he loved his son. Anyone who loved Sam couldn't be bad.

But throwing out your son was not the act of a parent who loved their child.

And that was the final straw for Rachel.

She brushed past Sam and Dean, stalking towards the still open door of their motel room. Sam was calling out her name from behind her, but she was too far gone to care. There, sitting on one of the beds was John Winchester.

Except, she didn't know him as John Winchester.

"Jimi?" she asked, her anger displaced momentarily by her shock.

"Rachel?"

He looked just as surprised as she was. She quickly got over the realization as it just turned into another reason for her to hate John Winchester. He'd hurt Sam and he'd been lying to her mom. It took only a couple of steps before she was in front of him, pulling her arm back and slapping him with everything in her body. It made her mad to see that he gave no outward show of pain beyond a wince.

"Jimi Hendrickson, John Winchester, whoever the hell you are, you are a sad excuse for a father and a sad excuse for a man!" she screamed into his face, "How dare you throw Sam out for wanting to go to college! He has a right to do what he wants with his life. You should be supporting him, not hindering him! I don't think your wife would have wanted her son wasting away all of his potential on just hunting. Sam can do so much good for the world and you're standing in his way. If you know what's good for you, you either change your attitude or you stay away from him. Do you hear me?"

He didn't say anything, still too shell-shocked. Disgusted, Rachel backed away from, him breathing harshly.

"And you know what," she began again, "While you're at it, why don't you stay away from my mother as well, you lying, two-faced scumbag!"

Finally satisfied that she'd said her piece, she went to leave the motel room and saw Sam and Dean hovering at the entrance. Sam's expression was full of wonder while Dean looked like he wanted to strangle her. Lifting her head high, she pushed forward, snagging Sam's hand as she went. Unresisting, he fell in step with her. Their progress to the car was halted when a large hand fell upon her shoulder. She looked over it into Dean's fiery eyes.

"Where do you think you're taking Sam?"

"Home."

His nostrils flared hostilely.

"He's already where he belongs."

With her free hand, she took tight hold of his fingers and twisted. He jerked and went down on one knee.

"Sam and I are going now Dean." She released his fingers and heard him hiss. "I'd rather not have to put my foot somewhere unfortunate if you do not cease and desist in trying to stop us."

Both he and Sam winced, knowing exactly what she was talking about. After a minute of no one doing anything, Rachel looked away from Dean, tugging Sam along. Neither looked back as they got into her car, Sam tossing his duffel into the back seat. It was only once they'd driven far enough away that Rachel pulled over on the side of the road, not able to drive anymore because her eyes had become unfocused due to how watery they were. After a minute of sitting there, she finally allowed herself to succumb to her tears, throwing herself at Sam in the passenger seat apologizing over and over. With tears falling down his own cheeks, he held her as tightly as he could, burying his face in her hair as he tried and failed to convince her it wasn't her fault.

* * *

"Quinny?"

Quinn looked away from her homework, seeing her mom standing hesitantly at the door, her hand resting on the frame.

"Yes mom?"

"There's a boy on the phone. He says he'd like to speak to you."

"Who?" the girl asked, curious.

Usually people didn't call her home number. The only ones who did were the glee members.

"I think his name was Sam..." her mom answered uncertainly.

"Sam?" Quinn gasped, sitting up, "Here, hand me the phone."

Obediently, her mother did as she was asked. Quinn watched her go, slipping out as if she were never there. The minute she was gone, the blonde brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello? Sam?"

"_Hi Quinn_."

"Um, hi." She didn't know why, but talking to Sam on the phone made her a little nervous. "My mom said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"_Yeah_." A long beat. "_My dad kicked me out._"

Closing her eyes, Quinn sighed. She should've known this was going to be an important conversation.

"I'm sorry," she told him, trying to convey all of the compassion she could muster for him. After all, she could totally relate. "Are you alright? Do you have somewhere to stay?"

_"I'm at Rachel's. Her dads don't mind."_

"That's good."

The old Quinn would have said something really rude about how a boy living under the same roof as Man-Hands and her faggy fathers was totally indecent. But she'd done a lot of growing up this past year. Rachel was a person. A good person who didn't deserve the shit she'd put her through. Fag was an ugly word. Kurt had become one of her best friends and she could never call him something like that, or anyone else either. And Sam was a decent guy, who would never take advantage of Rachel. He'd probably cause himself harm before ever letting anything happen to Rachel.

She idly wondered if any boy would ever love her that much.

"_She told me to talk to someone. And well..._"

"You called me because I'd understand." There was silence on his end. "It's alright Sam. I do."

* * *

The graduation ceremony was kind of boring. He'd been excited to be graduating, but Principal Figgins had the kind of voice that made it a snore fest. It was amazing he'd stayed awake long enough for his name to be called. When it was his turn to shake the short dark skinned man's hand and take his diploma, he heard an eruption of cheering coming from his personal cheering squad in the audience. It had warmed him immensely to see the entire glee club, Hiram, Leroy and Ms. Pillsbury there in the crowd for him. For a second, he imagined seeing his dad and Dean there too, looking proud of him, but he pushed it away. He didn't need to be thinking of that today. Today was his.

When the ceremony finally came to a close, he leapt to his feet and threw his cap up in the air along with the rest of his peers. All of them were glad they were finally done.

He got a lot of claps on the back and hugs as he made his way to where he knew Rachel had been. Once he spotted her with her dads, talking to someone, he made his way over.

"Sam!" she cried before jumping at him.

Catching her with ease, he gave her a light squeeze before letting her go.

"Hey Sam."

His eyes widened when he recognized the sound of that voice. Looking away from Rachel, he saw Jesse standing there, giving him a sheepish smile.

"I heard today was the day McKinley was having graduation," he rushed to explain, "School's already over at Carmel, so I figured I should stop by."

Jesse's nonchalant act wasn't fooling him one bit. Sam was glad to see him, it had been such a long time, but... He glanced down at Rachel. Was she okay seeing him like this?

To his surprise, Rachel looked just fine. In fact, she seemed happy to see the other boy. She caught Sam staring and chuckled.

"I might have called him and told him about it," she said, smiling coyly.

"When did you guys start talking again?" Sam asked.

"Not that long ago," Jesse replied, "Rachel just called me up out of the blue and suddenly forgave me."

"Really?"

"I got tired of being mad at Jesse. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have been able to see my mom until I was eighteen. Besides..." She reached out and took his and Jesse's hands. "I missed all of us being together."

"So didja miss me Winchester?" Jesse fluttered his eyelashes at him.

"As if."

"My heart!" Jesse cried, grasping his chest.

He didn't know how long they stood there and talked. Jesse started filling them in on what he'd been up to since he'd transfered back to Carmel. Apparently he'd gotten into UCLA on a full ride scholarship, a lot like he had. It was kind of funny how they were both going to be going to college in California. The other boy started talking about how they had to meet halfway every other weekend to hang out and have some drinks. Which got Rachel yelling at them about the evils of drinking and then demanding that Sam call, text and email her every day. Then she started talking a mile a minute about how Juilliard was a superior school choice to anywhere on the west coast. Sam allowed himself fall into the background of the conversation, simply enjoying seeing his best friends speaking to each other again after all of the craziness of the last couple of months.

It felt really good to just be there, together, with a brighter future ahead of all of them.

* * *

Part II: McKinley - End

* * *

AN1: Oh God finally. I was wondering when this arc would be done. This is such a long chapter... But I'm definitely feeling that, best one yet feeling. Fingers crossed! I admit, I am sad to see McKinley go. Some of the other gleeks might pop up in future arcs. I suggest listening to the song "Ghost of You" by My Chemical Romance and "Wheel in the Sky" by Journey while reading interlude two. After that, next arc will be the _Sacrifice_ arc.

AN2: for anyone interested in what Rachel's prom dress looks like, look up Lea Michele's dress from when she attended Billboard's 5th Annual Women in Music Awards.

AN3: I've gone back an edited this chapter. Some grammar fixes. Most importantly, I added two scenes, a Sam and Artie convo scene as well as a Stanford acceptance letter reveal scene. Hope you like them.

* * *

Last Edited: 4-15-12


	11. Interlude: Of Fire and Funerals

Interlude: Fire and Funerals

* * *

His eyes asked questions that the flames couldn't answer for him. He doubted that his brother would be able to answer any of them for him either. They'd been left here, out in the cold, numb and unable to think about what to do next. Sam could feel himself being pulled into memories of things he didn't want to remember.

Things he could help but remember as he stood and watched as his father's body burned.

* * *

The past month had been full of his past revisiting him. Running into Finn Hudson of all people on a hunt fit the trend. Sam stared at Finn, lying unconscious in the hospital bed, looking different than the last time he'd seen him years ago. Older, with hair even longer than his own. He had to suppress a shudder at the thought that if he and Dean had come any later to investigate hikers going missing, he could've lost a friend and not even known about it. The way hunters operated, they would've stayed long enough to ensure the Collins siblings were alright and shagged ass. And sometimes, there wasn't even enough time for that in the cases where they had aroused the suspicion of cops. But when he'd seen the paramedics wheeling a bleeding and battered Finn out of the mineshaft, he'd told Dean they needed to stay.

Now, it looked as if the man in the bed was starting to wake up.

Sam moved to his side immediately, waiting nervously as Finn's eyelids fluttered open. For a minute, he looked around his room sluggishly, not understanding where he was or what was going on. Slowly, awareness seeped into his eyes and finally, they came to rest on Sam. They widened.

"Sam? Sam Winchester?"

"Hey," Sam said, giving him a weak wave.

"What are you doing here man?" He winced when moving jostled his injuries. "Where are we?"

"Hospital just outside of Blackwater Ridge. You were pretty messed up when you were found."

Finn's entire body tensed.

"There was something out there Sam. Something strong and fast, and shit! It had me and... and I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to die out there in that cave. Shit!" Finn cursed, breathing hard, his eyes haunted.

"Was..." Sam started, reluctant to continue, "Was anyone else out hiking with you?"

"No," the other man denied, causing Sam to immediately relax, "I know it sounds crazy, but you've got to believe me, whatever it was, it was a monster. Like bigfoot, except worse. Way worse."

"You're not crazy Finn. It was a monster."

"You believe me?" Finn asked surprised before his eyes narrowed, "Wait, you aren't just saying that to keep me calm until you can go have someone come and drug me or something so that the guys in white can drag me off to a mental institution, are you? I'm not crazy."

"I believe you," the younger Winchester explained to his old friend, "It's called a wendigo. They used to be human before they started eating people and became monsters. But you don't need to worry about it. It's dead. My brother killed it with a flare gun. All that's left of it is a burnt up pile of ashes."

"I see..."

The man in the hospital bed stared down at his bandaged arms. Even though they were covered, Sam had read the report starting that places on his arm where flesh had been torn away. There'd been evidence that the wounds had been caused by something biting into him.

"How do you know about it?"

Finn was shaking. Sam pretended not to notice.

"My brother and I are hunters. We hunt and kill things that hurt people. Things that normal people don't know exist."

"Why don't people know about this stuff?" Finn suddenly asked, "I mean, if stuff like this happens to people,and people get killed by these things, why don't more people know?"

"A lot of people are happy pretending there aren't things out there that go bump in the night."

"Why?"

"It's easier."

Hesitantly, the younger man spoke again.

"Did she know? You know, about monsters? Is that what happened to her?"

Sam went still at the question, trying to suppress the need to punch out Finn's lights. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't even him he was really mad at. He didn't know how to respond to him. Didn't know what to tell Finn. So he stood and quietly went to the door.

"Wait man, I'm sorry. You don't have to-!"

"If you need to talk to someone about the wendigo and hunting, talk to Brittany and Puck if you're still in contact with them," Sam said abruptly, "Whenever you get back to Lima, tell them and the rest I said hey."

"Sam! _Sam!_"

* * *

"_Sam!_"

"Alex!" Sam cried struggling against someone dragging him backwards.

Flames were everywhere as the room burned, but he only had eyes for his girlfriend, who was pinned to the ceiling and bleeding from the wound on her stomach.

"Let me go!" he yelled, trying to reach for her.

"Dude, come on, we have to go!"

No, he couldn't do this again. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't.

"Alex!"

The nightmare progressed. History, it seemed, had repeated itself. He was in a cemetery, the sun shining and the grass ridiculously green. And there were flowers, and a head stone. Yet another funeral. Another time Jesse was at his side as he mourned. Another casket. Another girl lost.

* * *

"She gave me my first love." Blaine.

"She fought my battles until I could fight them myself." Kurt.

"She made me understand that my dancing is a gift." Mike.

"She told me I wasn't stupid." A blond boy.

"She liked me even though I was a bitch." Santana.

"She saved my life." Brittany.

"She was my baby." Shelby.

"She made me believe I wasn't just another jock." Matt.

"She taught me to not hide my voice." Tina.

"She showed me how to be a better man and a better leader." Finn.

"She put her trust in me to help her however I could." Ms. Pillsbury-Shuester.

"She forgave me." Jesse.

"She taught me how to be a better person." Quinn.

"She told me I could reach the stars even if I couldn't stand on my own two feet." Artie.

"She showed me I didn't have to hate myself or others." A tall broad shouldered boy who stuck close to Kurt and Santana.

"She always brought me good business." A tough looking heavy set girl.

"She was my mentor." A short Filipino girl.

"She was my greatest friend and rival." Mercedes.

"She helped me keep glee alive." Mr. Shuester.

"She was our life. She was our star. She was everything," Leroy said as tears ran down his cheeks.

Hiram stood beside him, face emotionless. Every one of the old glee club members stood to speak for their lost friend. Well, almost every one of them. There were some he didn't recognize, some he did and almost couldn't believe were in attendance. Only one person he expected to be here was missing, but Sam didn't blame him for not coming. Sam almost wished he hadn't shown up either. The sight of them, barely containing their grief was almost too much for him to bear. Like a reflection of his own in a mirror. A mirror he desperately wanted to smash so he didn't have to see it. When Hiram and Leroy had motioned for him to come take his turn to speak, he wanted to refuse. If he stood, and he spoke, if he really acknowledged this was happening, that would be the end. And after all those years and this was it.

It was like he was giving up on her.

He caught Hiram's gaze, then Leroy's, and knew that he had to go through with this though. Standing stiffly, his feet dragged as he walked slowly to the front.

"She... Rachel was my friend," Sam said, voice hoarse, "My best friend. And I loved her."

_Loved_.

Past tense.

And then he couldn't take it anymore. He staggered back as he felt the finality of his own words. Rachel _was_. Not Rachel is. Because Rachel was gone. He walked away from the front. Away from the people. Away from his friends. Away from her. He just needed to get away.

* * *

Slowly, Sam pulled himself out of the memories. The fire was starting to go out, and all that was left of John Winchester was some charred and ashy remains. He glanced at Dean, before returning his gaze back to the fire. Dean would probably have them moving out soon. The demon was still alive and their father had become yet another casualty of war the Winchesters had waged on it. A cold hard determination had settled over him and Dean. They would kill the son of a bitch if it was the last thing they did. He looked at Dean again.

Sam Winchester was done with losing his loved ones.

* * *

AN: Bit of a curveball no? All will become clearer with the next arc, _Sacrifice_.


	12. Pt III: Secondhand

Part III: Sacrifices

* * *

Secondhand

_Well I'm done_  
_Fighting for the secondhand_  
_And I'm done_  
_Living in the walls of what I've done wrong_  
_Wake up, wake up_  
_The sun is rising_

-Blood and Water

* * *

_He opened his eyes._

_Even in the night, with only a glance up at the ceiling, he knew this place. This was Alex's apartment. He looked around it with a nostalgic pang. Once upon a time, this was home. The longest time he'd ever spent with a ceiling above his head that wasn't Bobby's. Or even-_

_He didn't want to think about that._

_This was definitely a dream though. He'd been living with Alex just off of campus, ever since she'd invited him to and he'd tentatively said yes. What he didn't understand was why he was dreaming about this. It had been such a long time since he'd last dreamed about Alex, and the only dreams he'd had of her ended in hellish nightmares of blood and fire._

_Sitting up in his dream, he found that he'd been laid out on the living room floor. It was a small relief. He didn't want to see the bedroom or the ceiling or Alex on it. Standing, he looked around. Everything was just like it was before the fire. Tidy, but it still had lived in touches. Alex's extensive DVD and CD library, with some of his own contributions mixed in, along the wall. Her elliptical. His mug on the coffee table, one of their old term papers serving as a coaster underneath it. And there was a picture of them, one of their friends had taken of them, together at a cafe not too far from Stanford's campus. It hurt to look at all of it._

_A sound distracted him though._

_It was coming from the kitchen. Like someone was moving about, picking things up and clinking things together. He even heard the sound of liquids being sloshed around. Cautiously, he moved to check it out. The light was on in there. As he entered, he saw someone moving around in there. Small, slim, dark hair cascading downs her back._

_Alex._

_He sighed._

_Honestly, he hadn't known whether or not he'd wanted it to be her. He missed her fiercely, and every time he prayed, she was there in them. Maybe it was a good dream for once. At least, he kept reminding himself, she wasn't up on the ceiling. That had to be a good sign. Tentatively, he stepped forward and after a minute's hesitation, he slipped his arms under her own and held her to him, letting his chin fall onto her shoulder._

_"Alex..." he sighed, taking in a deep breath of her._

_His brow furrowed. There was something wrong. The smell. It wasn't right. He remembered this smell. But it wasn't Alex._

_"Samuel Winchester, you know full well who I am and I am not whoever this Alex is you're talking about."_

_His heart stopped. In a second, his arms were retracted as if he'd been burned. Staggering away, he stared at the girl who was most certainly not Alex with horror. She hummed softly to herself, her voice high and clear, demanding his attention like it always had._

_"Why are you...?"_

_"Vegan sugar cookies." She showed him a bowl of half mixed dough and then turned away from him and went back to vigorously mixing it._

_"Why are you here?"_

_"I have been for days Sam. You keep forgetting. You need to remember this time Sam. The witch is coming." She walked back over, looking the slightest bit apologetic. "You always hated surprises. And riddles. Sorry I can't be more clear."_

_"I need to remember?"_

_"No Sam, you need to wake up." She smiled at him. "This isn't Kansas anymore."_

_She reached up on her tippy toes and poked him on the forehead. Flashes of somethings - the moon, dad's journal, a number, Andy, Ava, a knife, white eyes - white everything._

_And then nothing._

_._

* * *

His eyes snapped open as he shot up in his bed. His head pounded and the room spun. He tried to shift his legs over to the side of the bed to get out and up and standing, but he couldn't even get that far. The pain splitting his skull was so intense that all he managed was a full body jerk that managed to clumsily dislodge him from his covers and deposit him unceremoniously onto the floor.

Altogether a rather poor start of the morning for Sam Winchester.

As he lay on the ground, he contemplated what he'd dreamt of. Or, to be honest, what he might have seen. These days, Sam couldn't really tell anymore whether what was going on while he slept was a dream, a nightmare or a vision. It was sad to find that just a dream could be easily crossed off the possibilities simply because Sam didn't dream. Not anymore. There was too much pain, and danger, and horror in his life to give him a peaceful night's rest anymore. There was something really weird about this time though.

He knew exactly what made now so different from before.

This time was just... something. Not quite a vision, though he saw things that made him wonder about their significance. Not really a nightmare, no Alex burning, no doctors trying to revive dad, no Dean dying, but it had had an unexpected visitor. Why now though? Why her?

If he wasn't trying so hard to discern the meaning of her being in his dream, he would've been able to accept the real reason why dreaming of Rachel now after all this time had him so shaken.

But now wasn't the time for thinking about it. There were some mercies about this situation. Dean hadn't been there to seem him wake up. He'd have pestered him about what exactly he'd seen this time. Even if Dean had a right to be concerned, Sam couldn't take the veiled suspicion from his brother anymore. The visions, the lack of sleep, the guilt, were eating at him enough as it was. If he could keep Dean off his back for another day without having to lie through his teeth, it would be another day of relief. Reaching up, he grasped what he could of the bed and pulled himself into a sitting position before standing fully and heading for the shower.

Maybe the water would clear his head.

Maybe, being the operative and exceedingly optimistic word there.

* * *

Sometimes ghost hunts were boring, annoying and chocked full of research, but Dean couldn't really bring himself to mind too much. They'd needed something easy like ghosts. You could just salt and burn it and be done with it. What they'd really needed was something that didn't involve damn psychic kids or demons. Sam still wasn't right after Meg rode his body all over on that wild goose chase. He gripped the Impala's wheel a little harder than she deserved. That whole thing had been enough to shake the already shaky faith he'd been trying to hold out for Sam, even if it wasn't really Sam doing the talking and the- the other stuff. Faith in Sam to not be what his dad was afraid he'd become. This shouldn't have been put on his shoulders.

Shit, it wasn't even Sam's fault.

He kept his head facing straight forward, but snuck a glance at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam didn't look too good, but it was better than he had been in days. Which meant he'd really slept instead of waiting for him to nod off so he could spend the whole night doing God knows what on his laptop. Sleep was good for Sam, but what if it had been one of those nights? Dean was tempted to ask, but decided against it. Sam slept. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? Knowing his brother, he'd just get his head bitten off for trying anyway. There were other things to think about.

Bobby had finally dropped them something good. Something that was starting to look like a werewolf case. All that they were going on right now were violent deaths, but it was worth checking out if their hunch that the victims were missing hearts turned out right. It had been a while since they'd taken on werewolves. Definitely longer than they'd been back to California. He'd been avoiding taking on anything in California because of Alex and Stanford. After Sam had dragged him back to Lawrence, Dean was pretty sure California was fair game again. And it wasn't like they'd be going too close Palo Alto any time soon, no matter how petty Dean got.

Reaching over, he turned up the music some more to drown out the sound of his own thoughts. Sam made a loud grunt in annoyance but didn't do anything about it. Dean smirked. It had taken a while to retrain Sam after the years he'd spent away at school, but he'd once again learned the rules. Namely, the driver picks the music and the passenger shuts his cakehole. And there was little else other than fatal injury that would keep Dean from driving his baby himself, so it wasn't going to be any time soon that Sam would have the pleasure of driving or choosing his music.

"Hey Dean."

It was so quiet compared to the music that Dean barely caught it. He almost ignored it, but finally turned the music down again with a sigh.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Where is this case again?"

"San Francisco." He grinned a bit. "How about we hit Alcatraz while we're there? You bitched about going to Vegas while we were in Nevada so we have to do something fun this time."

"Yeah, sure, I guess."

Sam was already staring disinterestedly out his window.

"Maybe you can go see a musical or something. They have those there. You're a girl, and girls like those kinds of things."

He was baiting him, but if calling Sam a girl didn't get him at least an eye roll or a bitchface, he needed to pull over and drag the answers out of his brother whether he wanted to talk or not.

The reaction he got wasn't an eye roll or a bitchface. Sam was facing him completely, his eyes boring into him with an uncomfortable intensity.

"What?" Dean asked, "There something on my face?"

For a moment, Sam looked like he was about to say something, but his mouth shut abruptly, his teeth clicking loudly. He quickly looked away again.

"Whatever." There was a stretch of silence. "Jerk."

A tiny sigh of relief eased out of Dean. That had been... weird there for a bit. He was used to Sam having his pissy, whiny emo moments, but there'd been something else. Definitely more than the typical sensitivity to being called a girl. Dean really didn't know what to make of it. It had been very not Sam, before returning to classic routine. A spike of paranoia lanced through him. He kept reminding himself that the Meg thing was over but it still made him jump at even the smallest un-Sam thing Sam did lately. For a moment, he wished he could be somewhere where he could bang his head against the wall for a bit so that he didn't have to keep worrying about things that shouldn't be worrying him. Dad was fucking wrong. Meg was a bitch. Most importantly, Sammy was his brother and he'd be getting him through this if it was the last thing Dean did.

"Bitch."

Eyes back on the road. Head back on the case.

They had a potential werewolf to hunt.

* * *

The three of them sat in her living room. Madison looked upset and disheveled.

"I don't remember anything. I probably killed someone last night, didn't I?"

"There's no way to know yet."

The look on Dean's face betrayed the fact that he thought she had.

"Is there something else we can try to make it go away?" she asked quietly, hopefully, although by that look Dean was giving her, she felt she already knew the answer to her question.

"We'll find something," Sam said, hysteria creeping into his voice, "I mean, there's gotta be some answer, somewhere."

"That's not entirely true," Dean cut in, "Madison, you deserve to know. We've just about scoured every source. There's just no cure."

Madison looked to Sam and asked, "Is he right?"

Sam stood, angry, defiant, but somewhere in him, he was already resigned and losing hope.

"I mean, we could lock you up at night," Dean finally offered weakly, "But…when you bust out," he looked right at her, "and some night you will, someone else dies." He looked away again. "I'm sorry. I am."

A sigh rattled out of her.

"So, I guess that's all there is to it, then."

"Stop it." Sam turned back to her, his eyes scared and imploring. "Don't talk like that."

"Sam, I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you."

She was barely stopping the sob caught in her throat and she stood, grabbing the gun as she went, and crossing to the room to stand before him.

"Put that down."

"I can't do it myself. I need you to help me."

"Madison, no," he said, shaking his head.

"Sam… I'm a monster."

"You don't have to be. We can find a way, all right? I can. I'm gonna save you."

They were both on the verge of tears. Madison was already losing what control she had as she began to cry.

"You tried. I know you tried," she tried to say to comfort him, "But this is all there is left." She glanced at the gun. "Help me, Sam. I want you to do it. I want it to be you."

"I can't."

"I don't want to die. I don't." Madison shook her head as she gave him a sad, but brave smile. "But I can't live like this. This is the way you can save me. Please. I'm asking you to save me."

He shook his head. No, he couldn't do this. Dean walked over to the two of them, wordlessly taking the gun from Madison's hand. Sam continued to shake his head in denial. He just couldn't. In a second, he hurried out of the room. Dean followed him, finding him standing, shoulders hunched in defeat, against the doorway.

"Sam. I'm-"

He was cut off by his cell phone ringing. Both men were startled by the sound. Dean pulled it out and put it on speakerphone while Sam slumped further.

"_Whatever you idjits do, don't you kill that girl. Not yet anyway_."

"Bobby?"

"_No, it's Santa Claus_," Bobby growled at him bitingly, "_Of course it's Bobby_."

By this point, Sam had perked back up and was craning his huge form over Dean's shoulder to listen in.

"What do you mean, don't kill her?" Dean demanded.

Sam made a choking noise.

"_There might be a way to help her._"

"How Bobby? You know as well as I do, we can't go locking her up."

"_It's a new theory that's been spreading through hunting circles lately of a possible way to help werewolves. Newer than the idea of severing the line your father had. It's not a cure, but it might help._"

"What is it?" Sam asked, snatching the phone away from Dean, "Tell us."

"_I don't know boy_," Bobby huffed, "_I have a name_."

"A name? How is that supposed to help?"

"_She's supposed to know how to help_."

"_She_?"

"_She's a researcher who helps passes information on to hunters. Kinda like how that Ash kid does at the Roadhouse_."

"What's her name?" There was a desperate note in Sam's voice. "Please, Bobby."

"_Dorothy Gail. She's based somewhere in Minnesota. Here, lemme give you the address_." In a second, Dean found the phone shoved back into his hands as Sam scrabbled for a pen and paper to take all of it down. "_Now I don't want you two going down there to cause her any trouble. This Gail's an agoraphobic, paranoid recluse. She don't like no trouble and will riddle you with holes if you plan on bringing any more than you already plan to_."

"So you're pretty much saying she's you if you were a woman," Dean joked, laughing at the curses Bobby spouted at him.

"_Just you watch out the next time you're here boy_," Bobby muttered threateningly, "_May just decide holy water's not enough to test you with. Salt rounds sound mighty fine to me._"

"Thank you so much for this Bobby," Sam interrupted, full of relief and gratitude.

"_Don't get your hopes too high Sam. Remember, this ain't a cure. Just something that might help. And it might not even do that_."

"Alright."

"_Now get moving. You don't want that girl gnawing on anyone while you're not watching her._"

With that, he hung up.

"Dean-"

"I know. Just go tell her already so she doesn't have to wait for us to kill her anymore."

It was almost amazing how Sam's face lit up like Christmas had come. So hopeful. He rushed into the other room without another word. Dean took at a seat at the kitchen table to give his brother and Madison a minute alone, to talk it over. He glanced warily at the slip of paper with the name and the address. Unlike Sam, he wasn't ready to hope so bad. There was still the chance that this Gail woman wouldn't help at all and they would still have to take care of Madison. It would crush Sam even worse if it came to that. Sighing, he leaned tiredly back in his seat.

No matter what Sam said, Dean would do it. He couldn't let Sam live with something like that.

* * *

Nana: And I'm back! and with the beginning of the third arc, Sacrifice. I had to make some shifts to the plot, but I've finally got it all figured out. I'm so excited.

* * *

Last Edited: 4-15-12


	13. Pt III: You Found Me

You Found Me

_Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me_  
_Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded_  
_Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?_  
_Just a little late, you found me, you found me_

The Fray

* * *

It had taken them hours on end and more bitch faces than Dean could mentally keep track of to find the woman's house. Bobby's information on her whereabouts was only right up until they got to Windom. The address he'd provided led them to a house that looked cleared out. When they called Bobby about it, he admitted that he might've forgotten to mention that Gail liked to move every year or so. They were already tired and cranky from having to make sure Madison didn't wolf out while they were on the road, so hearing that didn't make them feel any better.

Sam and Madison were left at the motel to research while Dean was in charge of pounding the pavement, talking to people and asking neighbors around Gail's past residences, what they knew about her and where she was. Research told them little, since Gail seemed as incapable of holding down a job for lengths at a time as she was staying in one place. That and apparently she was just like any other paranoid hunter, who kept her head down and fabricated most of her background. If Sam and Dean hadn't known Bobby and his methods as well as they did, they never would've picked up on the forged info.

The more they found out about this woman (specifically what they weren't finding out) the more Dean's danger senses were going off. He trusted Bobby, and he gave this woman some props for being so erratic, she stayed off the grid. But that didn't mean he was ready to just trust her. He could count on one hand the number of hunters he trusted to know what they were doing. There was a chance she really was just a neurotic nutjob who had Bobby and the rest of the hunting community fooled into thinking she was really something. Or worse. He clenched his jaw at the memory of Gordon. The last thing they needed was a neurotic nutjob who had a no-exceptions policy on killing of monsters. If she went after Madison, he couldn't ensure her safety from Sam.

That was another thing that was worrying him about this whole thing. Any right minded hunter should've been more concerned about the werewolf in the backseat, but his brother in the passenger seat was the one who was seriously starting wreck his calm. He'd already been worried about Sam, the demon thing, the visions thing, the lack of sleep. Sam seemed to be snapping at him almost every time he opened his mouth. Even Madison was getting scared to be around his brother, and he was at his calmest when she was with him. Dean wasn't sure what was going on between those two. At the beginning of the case, he'd been sure it was inevitable that the two would be boning (Sam had always had a weakness for tiny, hot brunettes).

Well, maybe his sex-dar wasn't working right (not that he'd admit it, but he watched enough of Dr. Sexy know what sexual tension looked like when he saw it), but it was like the attraction had just dried up and died. Died a very unceremonious death. Without any boning like Dean had expected. And now, they were just always together, Sam hovering over Madison's shoulder like a deranged oversized watch-bird. It took a moment to swat away the visual of Madison in a sexy pirate wench outfit and with Sam as her annoying parrot. The Madison part was totally a turn on, but yeah. The Sam thing was totally the opposite.

Without the shmoopie-puppy-love-slash-I-wanna-bang-you vibes they'd been exuding at each other upon first contact, it was hard to figure out what he was dealing with now. Dean understood general protectiveness for people they were trying to save but Sam was kind of taking this a little too far. And Madison, well, it was obvious she wasn't okay. Between finding out she was werewolf who'd already killed people and almost having them put her down, she was all kinds of scared, and angry, and depressed. She was pulling some Winchester grade emotional repression to keep all of it in. Repression the likes of which he would have been proud if it wasn't for the fact he was afraid she'd explode and kill and/or eat them in their sleep.

"So where again did you get this address from?" Madison asked quietly from the backseat.

"I was asking around in town. Most of the people just talk about what a shut in this lady is, but I hit gold when I found this kid and his mom while I was asking around at the hospital Gail used to volunteer at. Apparently, Gail's a family friend, and she keeps them updated on her whereabouts," Dean explained.

"Really?" Sam frowned. "That doesn't fit her MO. She doesn't get attached to anything. Jobs, houses. What makes these two special? Who are they?"

"I called Bobby to do some digging into them. There's nothing special about the Milligans. Single mom, no dad to speak of, but the kid seems pretty normal." Dean shrugged, which seemed to annoy Sam, who seemed fixated on the perceived strange behavior of their target. "Anyway, like I said, they're in constant contact with Gail and they have her most recent address."

Surprisingly Madison spoke up.

"And you're sure that this is the right address this time?" she asked, "I mean, the last couple addresses were dead ends. Couldn't this just be the last address she's abandoned?"

"I thought that might be the case so I went to the address and checked if it was actually occupied. Spent a couple hours camped out down the block. If I hadn't been watching at the right moment, I would've missed her pulling back the curtains for just a second." Dean gave a wry smirk. "Somehow, I think she knew I was there, casing her place. That's why we've got to see her now. She's probably getting nervous and trigger happy. She'll either fight or run, and as much as I hate getting shot at, _I'll_start shooting things if we miss her again."

"Okay," Madison whispered, sounding as unsure as ever.

Sam just nodded when Dean glanced to his right at him.

It seemed like little time passed between them leaving the motel room and having that conversation and finally arriving at a small house that was just off the path. It forced them to have to park and get out of the car to walk up to the front. There was a gate in front of it, and Dean's eyebrow rose at the sight of it.

Iron. Nice.

Dean went first and held the gate open for Madison and Sam. As he closed the gate behind him, he noticed the same curtain he'd watched before rustle at their approach. Good. She was home. Hopefully without a shotgun trained on them. All three of them stopped when they saw the door cracked open the slightest. A hand slid out, put a couple objects out on the porch and withdrew behind the closing door. Signaling to Sam and Madison to stay back, Dean went to the porch and picked up what the hand had left there.

A bottle with clear liquid. A knife. And a folded piece of paper.

He took the paper first, trusting it more than the bottle or the knife. Unfolding it, he read what had been written.

_Holy water. Silver knife. You should know what to do._

Yup. She was Bobby's soul mate.

Picking up the bottle and the knife, Dean walked back over to Sam and Madison. He handed the note over to Sam but kept the rest. Facing the house, he took a good swig of the water and then demonstratively cut his hand with the knife, ignoring the gasp from Madison. Turning to Sam, he handed the bottle and the knife to him. Sam took them, his mouth set in a grim line, and copied what Dean had done.

"You can drink the water Madison, but don't use the knife," he said to Madison, holding the bottle out to her.

"Why?"

"It's silver." She blinked. Sam frowned. "You're a werewolf. It'll hurt you worse than it'll hurt us."

"Oh." Madison looked down then looked back up. "But doesn't she want all of us to do it? We want her help. So we should be play by her rules. Even if it hurts, I should do it."

"You're sure?" Sam asked, looking worried.

"Yeah," Madison answered with a tired smile, holding both her hands out, "I'm sure."

With reluctance, he gave both the bottle and the knife to her. She drank what was left of the holy water and then handed the empty bottle to Dean, who gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile to offer some reassurance. For several long seconds, she stared down at the knife with some trepidation before touching it to the back of her hand and dragging it across the skin. She bit down a whimper as it cut her. The brothers watched as the area of skin where the knife cut sizzled angrily. Wincing, Madison pulled the knife away, breathing hard and shakily gave it back to Sam.

"Is that good enough for you?" Dean called to the house.

The door creaked open in response. No one stepped out. He and Sam glanced at each other and then at Madison. Did she want them to come in?

"Okay, seriously? This feels like that part in a horror movie where the creepy serial killer is just luring the idiot teenagers into their creepy old house so he can kill them all. And this is the moment where they can just turn around and pretend they never wanted to go inside in the first place."

"Yeah, except we have to go," Sam said gravely, "For Madison." He stopped and looked at their female companion. "You don't have to go inside. You can wait for us in the Impala. It might be safer."

"No," Madison said firmly, "This is my problem. I'm going. Serial killer or not."

Dean huffed a laugh and Sam's lips quirked upwards the slightest. The brothers and Madison nodded and then as one moved to enter the house, the brothers standing protectively in front of Madison just in case.

* * *

What they found inside wasn't what they were expecting. With the poor upkeep of the exterior of the house, they expected the interior to be in the same state of disrepair. However, what they were met with was an unexpectedly... tidy arrangement. There were multitudes of bookshelves, filled with books that with a brief glance, the Winchesters could tell were occult mixed in ordinary literature. All of the furniture was shockingly pastel colored and plush looking. Almost disgustingly girly in Dean's opinion.

They shuffled further into the house, and Madison took a seat on the mint green sofa while Sam and Dean remained standing, taking stock of exits and trying to figure out where Gail was. Dean put the empty bottle down on the coffee table in front of Madison, but kept the knife, slipping it into his sleeve just in case. It didn't hurt to be cautious and this place was making him all kinds of uncomfortable. How did a hunter live like this? He thought of his own family, and Bobby, and the folks down at the Road House, and there was a large amount of disconnect between how they lived and how this woman appeared to even though they were all hunters.

All three of the living room's occupants jumped when they hear a noise from further in the house. It sounded like metal. A pan maybe? So their mysterious host was in the kitchen.

His hand twitched again.

"Give me a minute please," someone called from the same direction the sound had come from, "Would any of you like something to drink? A snack? I have sugar cookies if you'd like some."

The voice was high and had an almost musical quality. Dean's eyes narrowed. She sounded young. Too young. And offering them drinks and cookies? What was up with this lady? He glanced at Sam to gauge his reaction, and was surprised by how pale his brother had gone.

"Sam." He moved to his brother's side took a hold of his arm. "What is it? What's wrong?" He shook Sam, his worry spiking. "Is it a vision?"

"No..." Sam whispered, though it didn't sound like he was answering Dean.

He stood there for a second longer before brushing Dean off and rushing down the hall the voice had come from. The eldest Winchester yelled after him, and was quick to move and follow, but stopped when he remembered Madison was there. Looking behind him, he saw that she was already standing and ready to follow him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and tossed them to her.

"Madison, I want you to go to the Impala. If we don't call your cell phone or give you some kind of signal in the next ten minutes, you go back to the hotel and wait for us. If neither of us shows up after three hours, you call that number Sam gave you for Bobby and tell him what happened. Understand?"

"But-!"

"No Madison. Go."

"I- All right." She scrambled for the door. Pausing just before she let herself out, she stopped to look at Dean. "Don't die. Please."

"We'll try not to."

And with that, she was out and the door was shut behind her. He shoved the knife farther up his sleeve and moved to grasp his gun. The house was quiet. He checked each door as he went. So far, he'd seen a bedroom and a bathroom. The last door was open, and he could hear people, Sam and Gail, talking. Moving quickly and quietly as he pulled out his gun, Dean stopped to listen at the door.

"How can you...?" That was Sam.

"Be alive? That's a good question." The woman. He was assuming it was Gail.

"I thought you were dead. I thought you died."

"Everyone thought I was dead. I thought I was dead."

"Then... Then what is this? How are you here? Where have you been?" There was a long pause. "Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

The rawness of Sam's voice, a rawness that was only present when he talked about Alex or Dad, made Dean feel like he'd been kicked in the chest. What the hell was going on? Who was this woman to Sam that she could make him sound like she'd gutted him and left him bleeding on the floor?

"There are a lot of reasons why I've done what I've done and why I ended up here and now. But right now isn't the time for me to explain that."

"Why the hell not?" Sam growled. "After letting me believe you were dead for the last four years, I deserve an explanation right now God dammit!"

"I never said that I wasn't going to explain myself to you Samuel. Just that now is not the time. You came here for a reason, and I'm sure that's the most immediate concern at this moment." There was another pause. "Besides, I'm positive that your brother is standing on the other side of that door just waiting for a reason to shoot me."

Dean slid his left hand under the other holding the gun, lifting it to chest level in case he really did need to go in shooting.

"Dean," he heard Sam say, "Stand down. It's all right."

"Well, excuse me if you saying everything's all right doesn't make me calm." He pushed his way into the kitchen, glancing briefly at Sam before returning his gaze to "Gail". "Who is she and how do you two know each other?"

As if he wasn't already pissed off and on edge enough about everything, the woman had the gall the chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"The fact that I remember you and you clearly don't remember me."

He blinked and then moved quickly from confusion, to recognition, to mortification. She did look strangely familiar.

"Oh God, please tell me I've never slept with you."

Sam choked and Gail's chuckled became honest laughter.

"I don't mean to offend you, but I never have had, or ever will have, sex with you."

"Yeah, well," Dean sputtered embarrassedly, not wanting to let her know she'd wounded his pride, "You're not my type anyway."

He forced himself to regain his cool and stared hard at the woman. The young woman who seemed even younger than her voice had suggested. She looked more like a girl. Hell, even Jo looked older than her.

"I'll ask you one more time. Who are you and why do you know Sam? And for that matter, how do you know me?"

The woman had calmed down by this point and was smiling at both him and Sam, Sam especially, fondly.

"A very long time ago, you saved my life Dean Winchester. Dorothy Gail isn't my real name, just an alias I use in this business. My real name is Rachel Berry, and Sam has been my best friend since I was nine years old."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sam jerk at the last part. As it was, the name Rachel Berry was jogging his memory. Vague memories of a ghost and a little girl. Clearer ones of blazing eyes and indecently short skirts and pain in his hand. Investigating her and her family because they were the ones Sam had stayed with after The Fight. How could he have forgotten about her? She'd taken Sam away. He'd hated her. A lot.

Apparently, she'd been a large part of Sammy's life for a lot longer than he and Dad had ever known.

"Sam," he said, shocking his brother out of the stare off he was having with Gail, Rachel, whoever the heck this chick was, "We need to go to the Impala and check on Madison. She doesn't know what's going on and if we leave her alone for too long, she's going to think something's happened to us and run."

Sam looked at him, and Dean almost recoiled at what he saw in his eyes. There was too much there. Too much feeling, too much everything. Who was she? Dean kept asking himself. How was she doing this to Sam? His brother stood there, staring at her, reluctant to move, as if begging for something.

What?

"Go Sam," the girl, because he really couldn't call her a woman anymore, said to Sam, "I'll still be here when you come back. I told you I'd explain things. You do deserve an explanation."

"Rachel..."

"Go," she order again, softly.

The tenderness in her voice rubbed Dean the wrong way. He cleared his throat to get his brother's attention and gestured for them to go. Sam eventually pulled himself away and followed him out to the Impala. The minute they were far enough away from the house and within sight of the Impala, Dean rounded on Sam.

"I want you tell me everything about you and Rachel Berry. Now."

* * *

AN: Hey guys. Been a while. RL's been a bit tough on me and when I get free time, I focus on my other fics. I might be updating this one a bit more though. Keep your fingers crossed! So comments on the chapter. Ugh, the beginning really dragged on. It's kind of hard writing Dean (though I do so love a good challenge). I wanted to give him a chapter to himself since Sam and Rachel will probably be attempting a takeover right about now. And I'm curious. If you review, humor me and tell me when you first made the connection that Gail was Rachel.


	14. Pt III: If I Die Young

If I Die Young

_There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever,  
Who would have thought forever could be severed by,  
The sharp knife of a short life,  
Well I've had just enough time_

Band Perry

* * *

Sam had given him more answers than he'd expected, but not nearly enough.

Rachel Berry had come into Sam's life when he was twelve. (He actually remembered that now. Jesus. When did Sammy get so old on him?) They'd struck up an unlikely friendship after his brother had rescued her from bullies. (That he believed. His brother had always been the white knight type.) Even after the job they'd had in her town was over the two had maintained a long distance relationship. (Old oddities like wondering where the hell Sam's cellphone had come from, where he went whenever he ran away and wasn't with Bobby or Pastor Jim, and his strange fixation with Ohio were finally explained.)

His brother had continued to babble meaningless factoids about her long after Dean stopped caring, and Dean could almost puke from how sickly sweet his recounting sounded. However, the warm nostalgia became cold and despondent as Sam began to tell him about the day he got a call from her father telling him that she had died and inviting him to the funeral.

That had really caught Dean's interest. When a normal person died, you didn't just find them somewhere else walking among the living. That usually meant you were dealing with some nasty undead son of a bitch. The only exception he'd ever met was himself, and he highly doubted that the same thing that happened in St. Louis would happen here with this Rachel woman. Girl. What did he call her? She was two years younger than Sam and looked even younger than that.

So now what he wanted to know was the how and why. How was Rachel Berry alive after being legally declared dead? If she'd faked her death, why had she needed to? What kind of trouble could some silly teenage girl have gotten herself into that she had to fake her death and not tell her friends and family?

As much as he needed to know, the feeling in his gut told him he really didn't want to.

Madison had been present for Sam's explanation as well, and the more he spoke, the sadder and more sympathetic her expression became. She reached out to Sam to offer comfort, but he was too caught up in his remembered grief to acknowledge it. Deciding he'd heard enough of the story from Sam for now, he dragged both of them inside so that they could get down to the business they'd originally come for. Rachel was waiting for them in living room, sitting in the chair set across from the couch. Though the sight of it made his skin crawl, Dean lowered himself onto the couch with the others to face her. No one reached for the glasses of water or the tray of cookies she'd set out.

"So let's cut to the chase why don't we?" he said first, breaking the silence, "Even though I doubt someone like you found the answer when my dad couldn't, let's hear what can you do about Madison being a werewolf."

At his side, Madison started tugging at the sleeve of her shirt. Trying to pull it over the hand where her cut was. Dean tried to pretend that it didn't bother him.

"Bobby informed you that this isn't a cure, correct?" She eyed all three of them, Madison in particularly, very carefully.

Dean frowned and Madison nodded after a beat.

"I just want to stop killing people," Madison whispered.

"And I want to help you do that. All that I ask is that you have an open mind about what I'm about to say. Alright?"

"Alright," the newly turned werewolf answered.

"I want to encourage you to think hard about it, and gather as much information as you can, so that when the time comes, you can be confident in making an informed decision. And remember that if you want to go through with my proposition, the decision is yours. Not mine, or Sam's, or Dean's."

No one ever accused Dean of being smart, but he wasn't stupid. There were alarms going off in his head as she spoke and their urgency peaked as she got to the end. Something was wrong with this situation. It had felt that way the moment they'd found out their contact was some old friend of Sam's that was supposed to be dead. It was only Sam's warning glare that stopped Dean from dragging his brother and Madison away from this girl. He squared his jaw and glared back, but made no move to leave. When Madison nodded and no one said anything, Rachel continued.

"The main problem with being a werewolf is that the person who is afflicted with lycanthropy has no control over their change or their instincts. Despite the fact that you don't want to kill anyone, you still unconsciously transform and kill anyway. What I'm suggesting is a way to transform and yet be able to keep your mind so you can control the base instincts of the creature. Understand?"

"How is that even possible?" Sam suddenly blurted out, "Everything I've ever seen about werewolves says that control is impossible."

"That's because for werewolves, it is." Madison looked crushed. Dean was ready to tear into Rachel, but she was talking again. "However, werewolves are only one kind of shape changer. I've extensively researched the connection between all kinds of shape shifters, from werewolves, to shifters, to skin walkers. While of those three, werewolves have no control, shifters and skin walkers do. Of those three, werewolves and skin walkers are most closely related. They are both states that are caused by infection through bite, both have animalistic transformations, and both have extreme, typically fatal reactions to silver."

"Is there a point to this?" Dean demanded, "This is all stuff Sam and I already knew. How is it supposed to help?"

"It's called dramatic lead up," Rachel remarked, for the first time sounding a little less zen than she had been the entire time they'd been talking so far.

He took a moment to savor the satisfaction he got from being responsible for that.

"Anyways, what I was trying to say was that after I noticed how closely linked the two species were, I wondered if there would be a way to apply the control that the skin walker has to the werewolf. I hypothesized, theorized, and then tested it. It worked."

The girl smiled and it made Dean uncomfortable.

"What was your theory? How did it work?" Sam asked cautiously.

"If the skin walker is strong enough, and the werewolf is low in standing, omega or beta at most, the lycanthropy curse can be overtaken by skin walker curse. My way of helping Madison is by helping her become a skin walker instead. As a skin walker, she would still feel the urge to shift and kill, however she has the choice to not do so." She paused and looked Madison in the eye. "So now that you've heard what I have to say, I'd like you to think about it, without rushing, and make your choice."

"Make a choice?" Dean choked out after a minute of silence, "What choice is there?"

"Dean!"

"No Sam." He pinned Sam with a flat look. "She's insane. She's spinning this bullshit like it's actually a solution to the problem." He swung his gaze back to Rachel. "How is being one kind of monster any better than being another? They're all evil sons of bitches we're supposed to hunt one way or another."

Both Madison and Sam flinched away from him as if he'd just struck out at them. For a moment, he couldn't figure out why. When he tried to think about what he had said, really think about it, he felt like punching himself in the face.

Shit.

It was obvious why Madison was upset. She was a werewolf and he'd pretty much called her a monster for being one against her will. Sam though... Shit. Sam who had been screwed up about his freaky powers and what Dad had said. He'd really screwed up. It was too late to take it back because Sam had already stood up and walked right out the door.

Cursing under his breath, he made to stand and go after Sam, but couldn't. How did he explain to Sam he didn't think he was a monster like the things they hunted?

The sound of a sniffle made him jump. Looking to his left, he made a noise of distress in the back of his throat when he saw that Madison was crying. This was the first time she had cried since they'd left San Francisco and it was his fault. You don't make girls cry. _Way to break that rule._ He dragged a hand down his face. Did he go after Sam or try to calm down and apologize to Madison first?

The decision was taken out of hands when Rachel stood first and went to the door.

"I'll go talk to Sam. You fix things with her first and then you fix things with him." She opened the door. "My journals on werewolves, skin walkers, and the method are on the table in the dining room if Madison wants to begin researching. You may not agree with it, but it's ultimately up to her on whether she wants to go through with it."

She nodded at him and then stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Dean wrestled internally with himself whether he should ignore what she said and just go to Sam, but a choked off sob stopped him short. Even if he really didn't trust Rachel Berry around his brother, he really couldn't just leave Madison the way she was. Especially when it had been his stupid mouth that had caused all of this. With a grimace, he placed a hand on her shoulder and began his awkward attempts at trying to console her.

* * *

It really shouldn't have bothered him. Time and again, Dean had told him that he would save him if it was the last thing he did. That he wouldn't let him go dark side. What could Dean do though? This thing with his powers, it was beyond his control, and it had even been beyond Dad's. Sam didn't want to be evil, didn't want people to look at him and see a monster. Maybe Dean was willing to fight for him, what about the rest of the world?

_"Do it. Do it! Show your brother the killer you really are..."_

_"He said I might have to kill you, Sammy."_

There were more people out there like Gordon. Even worse, there were people out there like his father who were a thousand times worse. Worse because they would get to know him and would still believe that if he was evil and that if it came down to it, putting a bullet in his head would be the right thing to do. He wondered if the hunters he knew, his friends, would. Would Jo? Would Ellen? Would Bobby?

With a groan, he realized that there was one more person who could land on that list.

He wondered if Rachel Berry would ever try to kill him. He wondered if he'd even try to stop her.

As if summoned by thought, she appeared at his side. Unable to stop himself, he turned to stare, greedily drinking in the sight of her. She seemed smaller to him, and he supposed it was because he'd only grown taller after going off to college. It had been similar to how it was when he'd seen Dean again, and finding himself significantly taller than his brother after the years apart. Almost everything about Rachel was different. She'd always favored having her hair long and wearing those ridiculous sweaters, and skirts, and socks. It was hard to believe that this woman, with her short wild curls dressed in a men's winter coat and actual jeans could be her.

His chest tightened. He'd missed those things after she'd gone. Missed the way she would call him all the time, sing him to sleep when he needed it, and greet him with hugs.

The one thing that had remained the same was her face. Her warm brown eyes, her lips, her nose. He couldn't help but be relieved that at least that part of Rachel was unchanged.

God, he'd missed her so much.

So why had she allowed him to think she was dead?

"Rachel..."

"Let's sit down over here." She motioned to the bench on her porch. "What you want me to tell you will probably take a long time tell. We won't want to stand for the entire thing."

He was starting to hate how she was anticipating his every thought and feeling so easily. While she had been able to do it back when they were teenagers, at least he'd known her just as well inside out back then. He felt like he didn't know this Rachel. Or was she actually Dorothy Gail now? Sam knew something about going somewhere else and becoming a new person. Though he hadn't changed his name, when he went to Stanford he'd almost completely left behind hunter raised Sam Winchester in favor of normal guy Sam Winchester. Were the changes on the inside just as stark as her superficial ones on the outside?

If they were, he was probably going to find out now.

"I remember the last time we talked," she spoke suddenly, breaking the long stretch of silence they'd fallen into after they'd sat down, "You'd missed coming home for spring break and I'd been pouting about it. I told you I had something important to tell you the next time you could come home. It was something I'd been keeping secret for a long time that I felt I finally had to tell you. I'd been convincing myself that it would irreversibly damage our friendship. But after I while, I admitted to myself that I was just being a coward. After taking some time to think about it, I'd come to the realization that no matter what, you'd still be my best friend regardless of what I said." The soft smile that had touched her lips twisted bitterly. "How could I have known that we wouldn't have any say in staying together?"

"What were you planning on telling me?" Sam asked, frustrated with the vagueness of what she was saying.

The conversation she was bringing up, he remembered it too. It had been the last time he and Rachel had spoken before he'd lost her. Almost every night after her death, he'd replay that call in his mind wishing they'd had the chance to actually have that talk she'd hinted at. He'd regretted being so focused on his studies, he'd decided against going back to Lima that spring break he'd missed. Missing his last chance to have seen her before…

"I was going to tell you that I loved you," she admitted, her words barely louder than whisper.

Everything went still. It felt like the world had stopped and the only thing that reminded him he was alive was the sound of his heart beating violently in his ears.

"You what?"

It was like he couldn't breathe as he waited for her to explain further. Maybe she was joking. Maybe it was just that she'd always loved him as her best friend or a brother, like the way he'd loved her back then.

Unbidden, something mockingly reminded him that he hadn't always loved her as just a friend or a sister. He knew what loving a sibling was like and he knew that what he'd felt for Rachel was a thing wholly different than how he felt about Dean. Something a lot closer to what he'd felt about Alex. Maybe even more.

"I wanted to tell you that I loved you," she repeated, sounding guilty and he didn't know what for and why it bothered him that she did, "I don't know when it happened, but I realized it when you came to McKinley. It got so hard to hide it, that became I terrified of the day that you'd find me out and everything between us would change."

Sam didn't know what to think, let alone say after that. Had he really just been confessed to? She paused to give him time to respond, and when he didn't, she continued.

"It wasn't long after the phone call that I went on a hunt with Noah. We thought it was a run of the mill haunting job," she told him as she punched through his scattered thoughts, "We were wrong. It was a trap. Someone had left behind a trail of false clues to make us believe we were hunting a poltergeist. However, instead of us hunting it, it was hunting us."

"What was it?" he asked, though the bad feeling in his gut was telling him he already knew.

"A demon." Her eye fluttered shut and her face tightened. "The minute we went in, we knew something was wrong. Everything smelled like sulphur. I turned away for one second to investigate a spike on the EMF meter and suddenly, Noah attacked me. I was so confused, I couldn't even defend myself properly."

With shaking hands, she pushed away her coat and tugged her shirt up, exposing her midriff. The skin there was raised with strange scars that he recognized, with a wince of sympathy, had been caused by rock salt. His eyes roved over her stomach and narrowed when he saw another scar, a long and thin one, stretching from one side of her stomach to the other.

"The demon who had possessed Noah started ranting at me. Telling me I'd gotten too close."

"Too close to what?"

"To you." She sighed and put her shirt down. "I don't remember the details well since it was hard to pay attention to it while trying to keep from bleeding out. From what I could understand though, it was angry I had gotten close to you. That I was pushing you off track. I wasn't able to get much more after that. I'd lost too much blood at that point."

"How did you get away from the demon?" Sam blurted out.

"I didn't." Rachel's eyes lifted until she was staring unblinkingly above at the overhanging roof. "I died on the forest floor."

"But that's not possible... Unless..."

His head snapped in her directions, his eyes wide with horror. She hummed thoughtfully.

"Unless someone made a deal to bring me back," she finished for him, "I still don't know who did it. All I know now is that it wasn't you." She sighed. "I'm glad it wasn't you…"

He was going to be sick.

In a second, Sam was on his feet, bent over the railing of her porch and dry heaving. It didn't matter how strong his stomach was, how used to death and gore and blood he'd gotten. His best friend had been murdered by a demon. And it had been his fault. And he'd never even known.

He remembered.

It had been two days and she hadn't called him. Jesse had texted him several times over those days complaining that Rachel was ignoring him.

Then Hiram had called him, sobbing and hysterical. At first he and Leroy had said she'd gone missing. They told him to stay in California, focus on his school, and that they'd keep him updated on the search. Their calls at first had been so hopeful and optimistic.

However, when _that _phone call had come, it had been like the world had ended. The search had ended when her body had been found, beaten, mauled, and cut up. He didn't know how he'd gotten to the funeral, but he had. And he hadn't been able to look at the body in the coffin.

The shock of her death, her murder, had left him so off balance, so numb, he hadn't thought to check for any supernatural causes of death. Everyone had been convinced some sick fuck had targeted her and killed her that he'd believed it too. And no one had asked any questions about Puck's disappearance after her death. They all thought he was so upset he'd run off and tried to hunt the motherfucker who'd killed her down.

Oh God.

A tiny clasped his shoulder.

Instantly, he jerked away.

Rachel stood there, her arm still out and reaching for him. Her eyes were sad. Did she feel sorry for him? He could feel hysteria bubbling up in his chest. How could she ever feel sorry for him when it had been his fault she'd been killed by her own friend? He didn't blame her for never trying to call him after being resurrected. God, had she dug herself out of her own grave?

Looking her over again, Sam reeled as it all hit him. It had been his fault all the way from the beginning. He should have never tried to approach her. He should have just left her alone. She never would have known about the supernatural. Rachel Berry could have lived her life just fine without him. She would've found a safe guy like Finn to have fallen in love with, she could've lead glee to win Nationals, she could have gone to a school in New York, and started getting parts for shows on Broadway like she'd always dreamed she would.

Instead she was alone, neck deep in the supernatural, dead to everyone she'd known and loved, and stuck in Windom, Minnesota of all the fucking places.

And it was all his fault.

Stumbling, he continued to back away from her. She stepped closer, her mouth opening.

"Stay away from me!" he yelled cutting her off, making her freeze with her hands still outstretched, "Just, stay away..."

_Or else I'll get you killed again._

He turned and ran. And she didn't follow.

* * *

**AN: **So it's been a while, huh guys? I've just got a lot going on and other fandoms have been stealing my attention away from SPN and Glee. Also, I've been having some personal issues with both of the shows lately (mostly, I've been wanting to stab both shows' sets of writers). I can't promise I'm going to be updating a lot for this, but I'm not abandoning it. It's just slow going. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to kyella0203, who has been keeping me honest about working on this story. And if I've forgotten to say this already, try going back and re-reading the story, those of you who are veteran readers of this fic. I've gone back and rewritten some parts of certain chapters and it's worth a looksie.

**Notes on this chapter:** Sam keeps running away, doesn't he? Yes, Rachel's hair is short, le gasp. Yes, I anticipate many bitch fights between Rachel and Dean. The italicized portion of Sam's POV at the beginning is remembering thing Gordon and Dean said respectively in S2 E10 "Hunted". Everything I said about werewolves becoming skin walkers? Bullshit. But I'm hoping it's brilliant enough bullshit that you guys think it's a believable solution to the werewolf dilemma.


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